


Syzygy

by TheDescension



Category: Power Rangers Ninja Storm
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDescension/pseuds/TheDescension
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lines, they say, are the simplest things to draw. But sometimes, the simplest of all things can be the most difficult to find and then, perhaps, all you are left with is broken lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> I have been posting at fanfiction.net for a good few months now but I decided to expand my base. So here I am.  
> Do leave behind reviews and enjoy!  
> I do not own Power Rangers, by the way.

**Hunter  
**

* * *

I keep going to the river to pray ****  
'Cause I need something that can wash all the pain ****  
And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away ****  
But your ghost, the ghost of you ****  
It keeps me awake

 _\- Ghost_ ,

Ella Henderson

* * *

That night, I saw dust.

Caking the remains of a life forgotten, covering them, smothering them, asphyxiating them to death. I think I ventured to remove it, to allow the remnants of a distant past to breathe; tried to give the already dead a life.

But I was defeated by the overwhelming power of annihilation and obliteration.

_Destruction._

I tentatively wiped the pervasive dust. It sprang up, layering itself on my face and forcing me into a fit of coughs. I blinked, my eyes watering from the dust that had entered them.

It was beyond me why I was trying to give life to these horrid trepid memories. I tried to remove the dust again but failed.

It just would not go away and in the darkness, it kept on piling and piling; growing. I felt myself slowly being buried in it: first up to my heels, then my knees. I felt it insidiously crawling its way up to my neck.

I think I screamed, moved my limbs frantically, tried to brush off the ghostly feel; the touch of the past.

The last thing I remember is my stifled scream, trying to break through the dust, trying to look for an escape, trying but losing its way in the anfranctuous elusive maze of survival.

* * *

I woke up with a cold sweat all over my body. It had happened once again. By now, I should have become used to it: these distorted images- _memories-_ of a battered past. But that had not happened. Instead, every time I dreamed of it, I woke up with a newfound fear.

Every time I wake up, it is a struggle to go off to sleep once again: to shut down all the thoughts, doubts and questions preying upon me and convince myself that I will not dream again.

Most days, I fail. There are other days, though, when comforted by the presence of a pair of reassuring hands on my chest, I drift off again, suddenly emboldened to face the past.

But those days are rare; the nights spent with that person are rare.

Today is not one of those days.

I take a quick glance at the woman sleeping beside me. I curse myself silently for not remembering her name. I find my way in the darkness, putting on the clothes that had been discarded last night. Gathering my belongings, I leave the tiny apartment.

Out on the streets, I see the sunlight slowly breaking out over the horizon. There is something captivating about the orange glow; the crepuscular beauty of nature. I have to scoff at my thoughts, wondering since when I referred to the nature as captivating.

As I walk through the streets, I get to think. I do not think about last night or the girl I slept with. I have stopped doing that: questioning myself about my frequent one night stands. I have come to accept them as a part of me. There is no reason behind what I do, there is absolutely nothing behind it. Over the years, I have worked myself into this space where I just do it; perfunctory.

Once upon a different time, I might have tried to change my ways but not now. Truth be told, I have seen so much in my life that I do not give a damn whether what I am doing is morally and ethically correct. Somewhere down the line, I probably lost that sense of judgment and now it has ceased to be important. The way I see it, as long as I am not leaving a trail of tears and pain, it is alright; no harm done.

The sun has now risen in all its glory. The streets, though, are desolate. That does not bother me. Emptiness has never bothered me. That is another thing that I have learned to embrace.

_Just another addition to my morbid life._

I do not realize where my legs are taking me until I hear the loud persistent breaking of water against the shore. The beach at this hour, too, is empty.

Removing my shoes, I walk barefooted on the sand, observing how my feet sink into it, only to resurface. The sand covering my feet is somehow reminiscent of my dream.

_Nightmare._

My mind seems to have the ability to conjure intensely visceral dark images every time I go off to sleep.

Last night, it was dust. I have never been able to comprehend why I keep going back to that place in my dreams.

I have thought about it plenty of times. I have tried voicing it out to her but never have mustered the courage to actually do so. I know that she has been waiting for an answer to a question that she asked three years back but I just cannot bring myself to articulate all my thoughts. I know that she deserves an explanation after everything that she has done for me and I tell myself every day that if I ever talk about it someday, she will be the first to know.

She has never pushed me too far, never forced me to open up. She has always given me my space, respected my reasons to stay bottled up, understood that I have a past that I do not like to dwell upon.

But that's just how Tori is. She understands you, without you ever spelling out a thing. I realize that if she had been here now, she would have understood what was wrong. In some inexplicable unfathomable way, she always does.

Sometimes I wonder how this happened with her. I had not even wanted to get close to her. Well, I had not wanted to get close to anyone. Because from previous experience, I knew how that ended. But somehow in her own way, she had broken down all my walls, breached all my defenses and worked her way slowly yet steadily into my heart.

The first few months after the realization hit me that I had fallen for her, I hated myself. I told myself that it was wrong, that no matter how much of a moral-philistine I was, falling for my brother's ex-girlfriend was completely unacceptable. But the more I told myself, it was wrong, the more I found myself falling for her.

And then, I reached a stage where I stopped caring about boundaries with her. I began to love the complicated relationship that I had built with her: our unspoken mutual caring for each other which ominously verged on a deep physical longing, our quiet understanding, the moments I spent with her, holding her in my arms, her head resting against my chest, her hands covering mine, or the nights when we drifted off to sleep beside each other, her hands gently placed on my chest.

Where we are, we have beaten about the bush for far too long and I know, the day one of us take the next step, there will be no turning back and considering things.

I wish things were not this complicated, that the consequences were not this tortuous.

_Convoluted._

I wish I could just tell her how much she means to me but I can't. My life does not work that way. It never has. It was designed to be fucked up.

The beach is now slowly filling up with people, mostly couples out for a walk or fitness freaks out for their daily workout routine. I glance around, looking for her, wishing to see her in the crowd, with her hair open, her surfboard tucked under her arm, as she goes out to brave the sea.

But I don't find her and I slowly disappear from the beach, leaving the signs of habitation far behind me.


	2. Wildest Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lines, they say, are the simplest things to draw. But sometimes, the simplest of all things can be the most difficult to find and then, perhaps, all you are left with is broken lines.

**Tori**

* * *

You and I, blurred lines,  
We come together every time  
Two wrongs, no rights,  
We lose ourselves at night

From the outside, from the outside,  
Everyone must be wondering why we try,  
Why do we try?

Baby in our wildest moments,  
We could be the greatest, we could be the greatest,  
Maybe in our wildest moments,  
We could be the worst of all.

__-Wildest Moments,_ _

Jessie Ware.

* * *

The dry leaves break under my feet leaving the woods to echo with their sound. The surroundings have considerably darkened over the last few hours with the thunder clouds gathering fast.

I like this weather: I like walking through the woods in the faint light with the incessant chirping of the birds resonating around me. I have always enjoyed walking through these woods; their surreal serenity and calmness always manage to overwhelm my senses.

As I approach the Wind Ninja Academy-

__The erstwhile Wind Ninja Academy._ _

__-__ the sound of the waterfall becomes more distinct: making itself heard over everything else.

I do not know why I have been unable to embrace this particular change in my life. Referring to the Academy as the Wind and Thunder Ninja Academy still seems foreign; the words still sound alien on my lips.

The waterfall looms up in full view. I stand there for a few minutes, drinking in the majestic regality of my element.

__Water._ _

My element had always fascinated me: right from when I was a child to now. I was six, perhaps seven, when I realized that I could make water flow backwards, that I could stop it in midair, that I could use it to do anything.

Initially, I had kept my mother in the dark about it.

__My father had been too drunk to notice. Or care._ _

Finally, I had discovered something that made me feel special; unique. And, in my childish realm, I was afraid that if I told anyone about it, if I so much as let the words slip out of my mouth, I would lose my powers forever, leaving me with nothing but ash and dust.

But when I used my command over the element unknowingly on my sister, one day, my mother grew worried. She realized that it was everything but normal. That it could mean only one thing: yet another person had been born in the family with the traits of a water ninja.

This control over water had been present in the maternal side of my family for years. But it had been erratic: some generations had seen more than one person gifted with the power whereas it had been entirely missing in more than one generations.

My mother never seemed very happy about the things that I could do. There had been no one born with the traits in her generation, or the one before, and slowly, over time, I realized that she had hoped that it had been lost over the years; lost in the pages of history, in the battles marked with bloodshed and violence.

It was with a long face and terse words that she eventually enrolled me in the Wind Ninja Academy. The first time I entered the Academy, I had felt a strange sense of acceptance. Sensei Watanabe had taken me under his wing and had taught me things which my parents should have taught, but never did.

He was the one who explained my powers to me, made me understand that what I had was a gift, that I was different: special. He was the one who led me to accept myself for who I was.

I had never been particularly close to my family.

__I had never had a family._ _

After losing his job, my father remained sloshed on most days. He hardly noticed me. In the wake of my father's failure, my mother had been burdened with the responsibility of providing solely for the four of us. She did everything that could be done but there is only so much that you can do as a receptionist in a hospital. My sister grew up to be a rebel ultimately to leave home at the age of fifteen, with nothing but a letter on the dining table which told us not to find her. I was ten when she left and although it should have affected me, it did not.

Because even in the years she was there, she was not really there. She was nothing but a ghost, a ghost that spent the night beside me in the tiny bed that we could afford, a ghost who wordlessly walked to school with me, a ghost that I feared.

My family was broken. I had always known that but the dysfunctionality that had severely bothered me when I was a kid slowly ceased to be important as I found another family, as I found another place that felt homelier than home had ever felt.

The clearing of the woods suddenly turns quiet. The chirping of the birds has stopped. An incongruous calm spreads across the woods. I know what that means.

__I have come to know it over the last few months._ _

The unmistakable sound of Hunter ninja streaking through the woods comes to a stop as he slows down beside me.

"You scare the birds everyday," I tell him, a hint of anger in my voice.

He shrugs guiltlessly.

I sigh.

"Just for the record, you look like shit," I tell him.

"I had a late night yesterday," he replies, looking away from me. "I didn't get much sleep."

I feel my face flush at his words. I know what that means.

I hate moments like this. I hate Hunter for creating moments like this. I hate him for taking every girl he lays his eyes upon home.

I think he senses my discomfort and tells me, "I was at the beach this morning. Didn't find you there."

I have to clear my throat before I can speak.

"I wanted to sleep in," I say, injecting as much normalcy as I can into my voice.

He nods his head.

"What were you doing at the beach anyway at the crack of dawn?"

He runs a hand through his hair and eventually whispers, a sense of finality in his voice, "I couldn't sleep."

The remnants of my already vanishing anger towards him disappear completely at his soft admission.

I tentatively reach out for his hands. He takes them into his without a moment's hesitation and brings them to rest against my cheeks.

I move in closer to him and ask, "Again?"

He nods, settling his eyes on me.

I free my hands from his grasp and wrap them around his waist, my head resting against his chest. I can feel the heavy palpitations of his heart.

"They'll go away."

"Yeah?" he asks, his voice breaking.

"Yes," I nod.

I feel his heartbeat slowing down, returning to normal.

We stand there in silence, in the clearing of the woods, the chirping of the birds that had resumed a while back, surrounding us and tiny droplets of water splashing onto us occasionally, from the waterfall.

* * *

Mid afternoon finds me in my office, thoroughly worn out after teaching two classes. I am in the middle of correcting the Ninja History papers of the beginners when there is a knock on my door.

Before I can answer, Dustin barges in and closes the door behind him, a huge smile plastered on his face.

"What's up?" I ask him warily.

"I caught Shane red-handed," he grins at me.

"With Kapri?"

"Yes," he declares emphatically.

I have to laugh at his excitement.

"Dude, he almost had his tongue down her throat-"

"Dustin," I cut him off. "No details, please."

"Sorry," he grins apologetically.

"But would you believe it? They wanted us to believe that they were not banging each other-"

"Gee," I cringe. "What's with the words? Banging?"

"Dude, whatever," he shrugs. "Point is, he wanted us to believe that the two of them did not have a thing."

"Well, given your reaction, I can't completely blame him."

"Tor," he groans. "We are friends! He should have told us."

"Maybe, he had a reason not to."

He rolls his eyes at me.

"Why am I even talking to you?" he complains playfully. "Where's Hunter? He owes me a pizza."

"That bet was serious?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Hell yeah."

"Unbelievable," I mutter.

"What?" he asks as he scratches his head.

"You guys placed a bet on whether a friend of yours was dating someone or not!"

He looks at me with a confused expression.

"Big deal?"

"Yes, big deal. It's outrageous."

He frowns.

"And, you wonder why Shane did not tell you about it."

He shrugs.

"You know, you are no fun, Tor."

I narrow my eyes at him.

He sticks out his tongue at me before he opens the door and turns around to leave.

"I'll go find, Hunter, and get my pizza."

I shake my head as he leaves the room.

I try to go back to my work, checking the Ninja History scripts but somehow find myself unable to do so.

Dustin's visit has left a fair share of questions and doubts gnawing at me.

It has been three years since we defeated Lothor.

Soon after, Blake left with promises of keeping in touch, with promises of making a long distance relationship work. It took me six months to realize that those promises were empty: lifelessly empty. We reached a stage where we did not talk for weeks and when we did, it was awkward exchanges of formalities.

It was my decision to break it off because I knew that no matter how much I wanted things to work with Blake, it just was not possible.

Things ended abruptly, with Blake begging for another shot but I refused that because I was certain that if I had to live through such tumultuous complications yet again, I would break down.

But, a few months down the line, I found myself thrown into the vortex of complications once again with the other Bradley.

Everything with him had started on my eighteenth birthday, with him calling me a little girl. I feel a ghost of a smile finding its way onto my lips at that thought.

And before I know it, I have turned back the clock and have started my journey to the day when it all began.

* * *

It did not feel right to remain at the beach after Shane left. With Sensei not around and Shane as disturbed as he was, I thought it would be better to go back to Ops.

But Dustin protested. And, Blake quickly followed suit.

Against them, my voice stood no chance and we remained at the beach.

I had been fidgety the entire day and the only one who noticed was the one I least expected to and, in a pathetic attempt to get me back to my usual self, he had called me a little girl.

It had worked.

I had been irrationally angry at him and had chased him around the beach until I had managed to push him into the water.

We had collapsed on the sand together, laughing hard at the preposterity of the situation.

That is when I noticed it: a deep gash on Hunter's inner arm.

"How did that happen?" I gasped, unable to mask my surprise.

He followed my eyes and realized what I was talking about..

"Battle scar," he replied, avoiding to meet my gaze, staring out into the ocean.

I did not believe him. That looked like everything but a battle scar. It was definitely a stab wound. It was longish, tapering on one end, wider on the other.

"Hunter?"

"Yeah?"

"How did that happen?"

He looked at me, eyes suddenly steely, impenetrable, body tense, defensive.

"I told you," he hissed.

I sighed.

Hunter and I were perhaps not the best of friends but we were part of that team that stood between the survival of humanity and its complete massacre; that counted for something.

"I won't push you, Hunter," I whispered. "But you should let someone in: you can't carry the world alone on your shoulders.

I did not receive a reply.

__Not that I expected one._ _

"We should go back," he said abruptly, rising up.

I stared at him for a moment before reluctantly whispering, "Okay."

And, on the way back, I realized that there was a lot more to Hunter Bradley's story than the murder of his adopted parents.

* * *

That was three years ago and I still haven't received an answer to my question. Over the years, with Blake gone and an irreparable bond formed in both our lives, we had bonded: grown in each other's shade, faltered to be steadied by the other, counted on each other, trusted each other.

But if there was one thing that remained unspoken it was that day and that scar.

I cannot pinpoint the exact moment when things between us took a turn and ventured into unprecedented territories. It happened noiselessly, insidiously, subtly, and gradually, developed into something that shaped my life.

It is not a relationship. It is not a friendship. It is a twisted sinuous mess: something that I voluntarily walked into and something that I allowed myself to fall in love with.

It is the worst kind of situation for two people to be in: we know yet we don't know, we see yet we don't see; so close yet so far away. We have pretended for far too long and the day one of us try to remove this thick cloud of pretense, there will be no turning back and thinking things through, it will be rash decisions taken by two people craving and longing for each other.

There are moments when questions come to my mind and refuse to disappear: moments like this.

Dustin's visit was a reminder that three years later, I was the only one with no sense of direction in her personal life.

Shane and Dustin seemed so quietly confident of where their lives were placed that sometimes I questioned my __involvement__ with Hunter.

It was the strongest of all my __relationships__ yet was nothing but something severely abstract.

__Fragile._ _

There was nothing that cemented it: there were no emphatic declarations of love, no extravagant gifts, no words exchanged that could establish it but even then, there was __something.__

Something so powerful, so full of life, colour and sparks, yet so intangible, so invisible.

* * *

It is with relief that I end my class in the evening. The clouds had been hanging around, threatening to come down at any moment but they had held up.

I watch in silence as the students leave the woods in clusters. The sound of their chatter is soon lost, only to be replaced by the sounds of the forest and the occasional booming of thunder.

"Planning to get soaked?"

I turn around at that voice, and cock a smile at him.

"Please tell me you were not shadowing me for the last two hours."

"I was."

I groan.

"That is creepy. Did I ever mention that to you?"

"Yes," he shrugs.

"Don't you have students to teach?"

"My classes got over in the afternoon."

I can see that the effects of the nightmare have died and that, in some strange way, floods me with relief.

"Did Dustin find you?"

"Yes, and robbed me too," he quips. "Do you know how much I had to cough up?"

"Well, it would not have happened had you not got mixed up in a bet, Sensei Bradley," I tell him flatly.

He rolls his eyes at me.

There is another loud sound of thunder.

"Let's get back to the Academy," he suggests, looking up to see the clouds.

"Yes, please," I reply and we start walking back together.

A silence transcends upon us as we make our way back to the Academy. The sky has now almost turned black with thunder clouds completely covering it.

"Tor?"

"Yeah?"

"Could I spend the night at your place?"

His words come out as a hoarse whisper.

I look at him.

"I just don't want to be alone tonight after yesterday's-"

"It's fine," I cut him off, wrapping my hand around his.

"Maybe you could tell me what you saw last night."

The first drops of rainfall descend on us as he nods at me.

* * *

In the darkness of my room, in the comfort of his arms, watching the newly cleansed atmosphere, I doze off to sleep: my hands on his chest, his arms around my waist, our bodies plastered together, the feel of his heart beating underneath my hands.

* * *


	3. Trouble Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lines, they say, are the simplest things to draw. But sometimes, the simplest of all things can be the most difficult to find and then, perhaps, all you are left with is broken lines.

**Hunter**

* * *

If I talk of getting out  
I only hear the laughter loud  
It's got an ugly echo

Somewhere there's a secret road  
To take me far away I know  
But 'til then I am hollow

In this trouble town  
Troubles are found  
In this trouble town  
Fools are found.

- _ _Trouble Town,__

Jake Bugg.

* * *

It is cold.

My breath is coming out as white wisps.

__Like clouds._ _

Through the window, I can see the snow on the road.

__White. Pure. Death._ _

I cannot fully see what I am doing. It is hazy; blurred.

There is a noise from downstairs.

It is faint.

On another day, I would not have heard it but that day I do.

It somehow forces its way through the impenetrable, sturdy walls and makes itself heard.

I hurry down the stairs, my legs working automatically.

And there she is. Lying motionlessly.

I move forward, too shocked, too numbed, too __innocent__ to understand, to realize.

Her hand is cold.

__Lifeless._ _

I still do not know what to believe.

"Wake up," I think I whisper, my hands tightly wound around hers.

But she does not.

* * *

Her hands are on my cheek. She is saying something.

But I can't hear her.

There is a loud sound in my head, something that is keeping me away from her.

Her voice is becoming distant, she is going away. She is leaving me.

__Alone._ _

I have to lunge forward, grab her hands, stop her from leaving me.

"Don't go."

I shoot up from my bed, the covers removed from my body, tangled around my feet, a sweat all over me.

I feel her hands coming around me from behind, around my wrist, working their way up to my chest.

"Hunter?"

Her voice is feeble; shaken. I realize her hands are shaking against me.

__Shit._ _

I have to gulp to remove the sandpaper feel from my mouth.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice cracking.

I never wanted to scare her. I never __want__ to scare her. Not her.

She presses herself against my back, her head resting there.

There is no reply, just the sensation of her fingers on my chest, drawing circles there.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly, her voice stronger than before.

"Yeah," I manage to say.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I feel myself shaking my head.

__I never want to talk about this._ _

The nightmare was nothing different to the regular ones: redoubtable, sordid and inchoate.

__Animistic._ _

The place haunts me, the memories haunt me, so much so that I cannot bring myself to talk about it.

Or think about it.

I don't know what scares me more: the events or the consequences.

Her hands drop to my waist, her legs coming around my sides.

I take her hands in mine.

"I am sorry," I whisper.

"It's okay."

"I did not want to scare you."

"You did not scare me, Hunter."

I turn around to face her, bringing her hands to my face.

Her eyes are fixed on me, her fingers caressing my cheeks.

It is one long pure moment of bliss, happiness, as I hold her in my arms, her touch lingering on my skin.

We do not speak, we bask in each other's warmth.

We do not talk about the gross inappropriateness of the situation. We just look at each other, every passing second tempting us to cross the line.

There is no reason for us not to do so. But still, we don't. We have never crossed that fine line in the last three years. I do not know why, I have never asked that to myself.

All I know is that we have not and that in some convoluted way has made this shit between us seem normal.

Initially, Blake might have been the reason that held us back. But with time, Blake started becoming insignificant, inconspicuous to the two of us. In his own way, he had hurt the two of us and that in some strange toxic way, made us believe that we had the right to do whatever we were doing.

The inconsequential flirty comments and the sidelong glances slowly turned into something bigger.

And before we knew it, it had inflated into this huge mess.

We have never talked about it: our __relationship.__ She has never questioned my one night stands, I have never questioned her dates. We have known everything yet have gone on to create something like this: something so strong, something so sure, that it scares me.

I guess, somewhere down the line, we fell in love with this imperfectly perfect mess and never wanted to come out of it.

"Hunter?"

She breaks the impregnable silence.

"Yeah?"

She leans in, resting her forehead against mine.

"Go to sleep," she whispers.

"I'm sorry."

I still cannot get her tremulous voice and quavering hands out of my head.

I hate myself for being someone – __something –__ that scared her.

"You don't have to apologize."

"I scared you, didn't I?"

"No-"

"Don't lie, Tor."

She looks into my eyes, faint lines of acceptance, resignation crossing her face.

"I did not want to scare you."

"I know."

"What did I do?"

"Nothing."

"Tori," I stress.

"Hunter, it was nothing."

I stare at her, refusing to believe her.

She sighs and then raises her voice; words firm, resolute.

"It was nothing. You did not do anything. So shut up and go to sleep."

She pulls away from me and lies down on the bed.

I run a hand through my hair before checking the time.

__3:50 in the morning. Splendid._ _

I lie down, reluctant to go back to sleep.

"You have to sleep, Hunter," she mumbles. "I know what you are thinking."

I have to chuckle at that.

It is miraculous, to say the least, how she manages to understand what I am thinking.

Always.

Wordlessly, she scoots closer to me, burying herself in the crook of my arm.

I spend the next ten minutes trying to go off to sleep.

But sleep does not come.

Every time I close my eyes, I can see her. Flashing in front of my eyes, reminding me things I do not want to remember.

"Tor," I whisper. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," she mutters.

I am about to open my mouth when she says, "But I plan to sleep and if you have some crazy nocturnal idea in your head, such as riding your bike through the woods or going for a swim, please, count me out."

And, just like that, like always, she manages to make me forget about all my worries.

"Am I this predictable?" I groan.

She chuckles, her head bouncing against my side. She turns around, lying down on her stomach, resting her chin on my chest.

"You are a little predictable," she tells me, a teasing smile on her lips.

I shoot her a dirty look and she grins back at me.

"But they were fun," I tell her. "Especially, the swim."

"They were everything but fun," she retorts. "How is swimming in ice cold water fun?"

"And," she emphasizes. "How the hell is riding through the woods at the middle of the night, in absolute darkness, fun? It is morbid."

I laugh at her response.

"You are no fun, Tor," I say.

She frowns.

"That is the second time I have been told so in the last twenty four hours. Am I boring, Hunter?"

"Nah," I tell her. "Mostly you are not but yeah, you can sure be a killjoy if you want to be."

She lifts her head from my chest and sits up on the bed.

"I am really boring, aren't I?" she gasps.

"Gee Tori, I was kidding," I say as I prop myself up on my elbow.

"I feel old, Hunter," she whispers. "I feel it in my bones."

"Now, you are just being dramatic," I say, falling back onto the pillow. "Come on, go to sleep."

"No nightly adventure?"

"No," I reply. "Let's just try sleeping."

"Hunter, let's go out," she says, switching on the light from the bed.

My eyes squint close at the sudden exposure to the light.

"Tori, it's four in the morning," I cry.

"So?"

I bury my head underneath the pillows.

"Get up, Hunter," she says. "We are going to go do something crazy."

"Like what?" I groan.

"I don't know," she whispers impatiently. "Something crazy."

I remove the pillow from my head.

"Tor, come back here."

She glares at me before finally giving in and lying down beside me.

"You are not boring," I say.

"No?"

"No."

"I don't want to be boring."

I stretch my hand to reach the light switch near the bed and turn the lights off.

Her eyes are moist and they glisten in the dark.

My hands are working automatically now: turning about, I put them around her, my head hovering above hers.

"Hunter," she whispers.

It is her own way of telling me that this is where it has to stop, this is where we have to draw the line.

I do not pay attention to her.

I too know that this is where it all ends.

"Tomorrow," I tell her. "We'll go out, drink cheap beer, get drunk and dance like stupid teenagers. Deal?"

She smiles, her lips curving into perfection.

"Deal."

* * *

Light filters in through the window, forcing me out of my sleep. Tori is still asleep beside me, her legs tangled with mine.

The realization that it is a Sunday alleviates my spirits. I can stay in bed, not having to worry about reaching the academy on time.

She stirs beside me, her eyes briefly opening for a second before she closes them again and goes back to sleep.

A smile spreads across my face at that.

I don't know where her words came from last night.

I have spent enough time with her to know her fears and worries, her masks and defenses. I know that she has her own share of problems. I know that her life has been a far cry from a fairytale.

But unlike me, she tries confronting her problems, she tries __dealing__ with them, she tries solving them.

I gave up that years ago: the best way to survive is to shut everything out, coop them up, compartmentalize them and shove them away somewhere so far away that they can never come back to screw me up.

__But sometimes that does not work._ _

I pay no heed to that voice in my head. I hate that voice. I hate their point-blank correctness.

I do not know what snapped in her last night that she felt it so important to go out and prove herself. It did not seem like the right time to ask and all I cared about back then was to calm her down.

That is what I have always wanted to do: save her, shield her, protect her. Just like she has always been there for me, unconditionally, completely, selflessly, I, too, have always wanted to be there for her. Just be there for her.

"Slept well?" she mumbles, rubbing her eyes.

"Good morning," I say, turning to face her.

"Yeah, I did."

"Good," she says. "Will you stay for breakfast?"

"I could," I say.

"Okay. I'll whip something up."

There is silence for some time, with her snuggling close to me.

She rubs her thumb against my cheek.

"Thanks."

I raise my eyebrows.

"For last night," she shrugs. "I made a complete ass out of myself last night."

I smile.

"That's fine. Everyone is allowed that."

She shrugs.

"You are probably wondering where all that came from."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

She shakes her head.

"The day my sister left, my parents had a fight. They thought I was asleep but I wasn't. I was awake, listening to them. My dad had been drunk, like always and he kept on shouting things – words – that I did not understand. And somewhere in between, he told my mom that she was boring. That it was all falling apart because she didn't try harder, because she was satisfied with what she had."

I am forced to acknowledge how familiar it all sounds: abusive father, subservient mother.

__Fuck._ _

I shut down those thoughts and concentrate on her words. By now, her voice has cracked, tears welling up in her eyes. I wrap my hands around her wrist, tugging her closer to me, whispering that it is alright.

She sniffs into my chest. Her voice barely reaches me, muffled to muteness, but even in the soft whisper, I can sense her pain, the hurt, and the fear, "I don't want to be my mom, Hunter. I don't want things to fall apart because I wasn't brave enough to take the next step."

I realize there are things which are going unsaid here: things about us.

__Us. Whatever we are._ _

I know I should say something, assuage her fears, tell her that __we__ won't fall apart but all my words of reassurance dry up in my throat, failing to grasp and gauge something so ambiguous.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, I am at my office in the Wind and Thunder Ninja Academy, discussing the course of the Annual Exam with Cam.

This is one of the things I hate about my job: __planning__ for an exam.

The other being, correction of scripts.

__Pure torture._ _

I have to feign my interest and concern about the event with the Samurai. He, for one, treats this as his baby.

He keeps loading me with mundane technical details of the examination, which I very conveniently do not fully register.

__My mind is too preoccupied for this._ _

Every instant, I am reminded of Tori's outburst, every one of her words like daggers stabbed into me.

I understand her fears, her worries and misgivings. I understand them because I too have them.

How long can we actually go on like this? Maybe we have exhausted our time, maybe we have had this __liaison__ for far too long. Maybe this is it: where we let it go.

"Hunter?" Cam's voice forces me out of my trance.

"Yeah?"

"Are you even listening to me?" he asks me tiredly, removing his spectacles, pinching his nose to remove the sweat.

"I'm sorry," I mumble sheepishly. "I zoned out."

He eyes me suspiciously as he puts his spectacles back on.

"Is everything alright between you and Tori?"

His words surprise me, to say the least.

"Huh?" I eject.

He rolls his eyes.

"Look," he says. "I don't know what you two have going on and I don't even want to know but if that in any way hurts Tori-"

"Cam," I cut him off. "We are friends. That's it."

"If that's what gives you sleep at night then so be it," he says, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.

I don't reply; I am too tired to fight with him about something that I myself don't know what actually is.

I just stare at him, challenging him to go on.

But he does not.

"We will decide about the exam some other day," he says briskly as he gets up from the chair and walks out of the room.

I suddenly want to bang my head against the desk.

__Me and my stupidity._ _

I spend the next few minutes doing what I do best: brood. It feels nice to lose myself in my thoughts, no matter how dark and twisted they are. I am painfully aware of how moribund it all sounds.

But somehow, to me, this is __normal.__

The vibration of my mobile phone on the table fills the room with a loud sound.

It is Tori.

"Hey Tor," I say into the phone.

"Hi Bradley," she says.

And, from her voice, I know that she is smiling and that for some stupid reason makes me smile too.

"Hi… What's up?"

"We have a date tonight," she laughs, her voice radiating life.

"Yeah, I remember."

"Still at the Academy?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "Cam got a little carried away."

"Tell me about it," she mutters.

"Remind me never to come shopping with the girls," she grumbles.

I chuckle.

"Let me guess," I say. "You are waiting outside the trial room."

"Nailed it."

"Don't be too grumpy, okay?"

"Don't be too preachy, okay?"

"I'll come pick you up later," I tell her, laughter getting the better of me.

"You better do," she growls. "I will need a lot of beer to forget these cotton candy dresses."

* * *

I can hear her giggling behind me; vibrant, infectious. Her hands come around me, locking them around my shoulders.

"You are walking too fast," she purrs, her voice close to my ears.

__Too close._ _

I think she is way more drunk than I am.

No. I am __sure__ that she is way more drunk than I am.

__Fuck._ _

There is a loud clamorous buzzing in my head. I don't feel like… me. The world does not seem like the… world. Nothing seems like itself.

__Argh._ _

I hate this feeling. I hate losing control. I hate not knowing what is happening.

"Hunter," she says, her speech slurred. "I can't walk anymore."

And, with that, she pushes me down into the sand.

She bursts into hysterical laughter.

"This is so much fun," she cackles.

"You are drunk, Tor," I whisper.

"So are you," she laughs. "But this is fun. So very very very fun."

"We'll feel horrible in the morning," I say, horror lacing itself onto my words.

She groans.

"Now who is being a killjoy huh?"

__Killjoy._ _

"Tori?" I ask her. "Who told you that you are boring?"

She looks at me.

"I'm too drunk to think about that, Hunter."

"Don't lie, Tor."

"Dustin."

I am surprised at how complaisant she is.

__Guess this is what alcohol does to you._ _

I feel her body language changing beside me: her body stiffening. "I know he was just kidding but… There was the other thing too."

"Other thing?"

"Fuck," she curses. "I feel like puking."

I snort.

"Jerk," she mutters.

"So… what about that other thing?"

"Huh?" she groans, holding her head in her hands.

"Dustin told you something," I help her.

"Oh… um… he didn't really say anything. I just felt supremely pissed with myself 'cause I was the only one who didn't know where her personal life was heading."

__Fuck._ _

The atmosphere suddenly turns claustrophobic; suffocating. I cannot breathe, asphyxiated by her words, her words insinuating that we become something more.

And, at that moment, the realization comes crashing in that the reason we have not gone on to become something more is because of me.

__Fucked up me._ _

Because I am too __scared__ to take the next step. I feel smothered by that thought and I have the sudden urge to run: get up and run away.

"Tori," I say. "We have to go home."

"Hm," she whispers, resting her head on my shoulder.

I feel my body tensing at the contact with her. I have to pull away, lose her touch. It suddenly feels too much: this feels too overbearing.

__I can't take this._ _

"Hunter," she mumbles. "Come here."

"Tori," I say firmly, this time. "Let's go home."

"Why are you being so fucking irritating, Hunter?"

__Argh._ _

I hate her being so… __drunk.__

I get up on my feet, pulling her up, bringing her to stand in front of me.

She sticks out her tongue at me puerilely.

"Killjoy," she says in a singsong voice, coming closer to me, removing the distance between us.

__Shit._ _

She crashes into me, blinking her eyes at me.

__Big stupid beautiful eyes._ _

And, for a moment, her eyes clear, the drunken glaze in it disappears and I feel myself on edge. I am aware of every tiny occurrence: her chest rising and falling against mine, her parted lips, her eyes trained on me and then, her hands pushing their way underneath my t-shirt, my muscles reacting to every touch of hers. Her lips are now on the side of my neck, placing the most delicate of all kisses there; featherlight.

"Tori," I rasp.

She pulls back to meet my gaze: the most innocent of all expressions on her face and… something more.

__Hope._ _

I am aware of the walls closing in again, the feeling of discomfort and unease worming onto me at this sudden change, at the sudden realization that she wants more.

That I have to give more.

I have to pull back; walk away.

Away from her, away from these expectations.

* * *

 


	4. Someone New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lines, they say, are the simplest things to draw. But sometimes, the simplest of all things can be the most difficult to find and then, perhaps, all you are left with is broken lines.

**Hunter**

* * *

There's an art to life's distractions,  
To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through,  
Some like to imagine,  
The dark caress of someone else, I guess any thrill will do.

Would things be easier if there was a right way?  
Honey, there is no right way.

And so I fall in love just a little, oh a little bit every day with someone new.

\- _Someone New,_

Hozier.

* * *

The shadows leap in the waning light of the moon that is showering itself onto the floor of the room, casting a dark look all around. The night is quiet, almost balefully so, but for the distant roaring of the waves.

As the night dies, as the sun promises to come out, to break through the darkness, I feel the tension seeping in once again, the walls closing in, caging me.

_Trapped._

The effects of staying up the whole night, the effects of alcohol, the unfamiliar feel of the couch, all coalesces and finally starts taking its toll on me.

_Last night starts taking its toll on me._

The thought of her hands on me, carefully treading their way, her lips on the side of my neck, somehow delicate and urgent, all at the same time, comes rushing back.

It had finally happened: the crossing of that ever-evading metaphorical line between us.

And, I had screwed it up.

_Typical._

The only hope that I was desperately clinging onto was that she would forget all about last night in the morning.

I had hoped that I too would have been drunk enough to forget all about it but then again, hope does not like me very much.

_Who knew._

I cannot fully comprehend last night. One moment, we were talking and then she said that she had no direction in her personal life and I knew, just _knew_ , that it was about us: her and me. And then, I felt the overwhelming need to run away because I could not bear to think of us in any other capacity but this where I would have to commit myself to her, where I would have to be accountable to her, where I would have to give a little more.

After that, before I knew it, she was kissing me; something immensely enticing about that sensation. I almost gave in, I almost took the next step, almost but not quite.

Looking into her eyes, seeing the hope burning so brightly in them, I _couldn't_ carry on.

Because she wanted something that I would never be able to give to her, something that I would never allow myself to give to her. Because she wanted a piece of me - a complete, full piece of me – that I could never ever give to her. Because at this point, I could not be responsible for anyone else other than me.

I had walked away, not wanting to hurt her, pulled away from her but terrible _drunken_ her had to collapse right there, right at that moment -

_Blasted moment._

\- and I had to half carry her home. She had not uttered another word after the fiasco.

_Bless alcohol._

But as morning neared, I felt the tension building within me once again, the anticipation of how the morning would play out, of how she would react to it, growing.

Somehow, although I found myself hesitant to become something more to her, there was still another part of me that did not want to lose her, that was scared to lose her; a part of me that needed her.

I feel my eyes closing, tiredness finally getting the better of me, forcing me into a deep slumber and as I doze off, there is one thought that scathes me, that drives me to loathe myself, the thought that after all she has done for me, I still won't allow her to be anything more to me.

* * *

I am woken up by the faint sound of cutlery, the tingling noise coming from the kitchen setting my head into a series of painful throbs.

_Welcome hangover._

The couch feels uncomfortable, the emptiness beside me too gaping.

My head continues to throb, clearly showing no signs of improvement. I remove the blanket off me and gingerly sit up straight, my limbs protesting to the movement.

It is after a good few minutes that my alcohol-clogged groggy brain cells realize that I had not gone off to sleep with the blanket wrapping me.

_Damn Tori._

I remember thinking and _over-thinking_ everything last night before finally giving in to the warm embrace of sleep.

I mentally prepare what to say to Tori, to explain my absence in the bed, _beside her._ I debate on telling her the truth, but eventually decide against it.

The truth does not appeal to me; it never has.

I make my way into the kitchen, head spinning, a nauseous feeling worming onto me. Her back is turned to me and I see her stiffening at the sound of my footsteps.

_Fuck._

I prepare myself for the confrontation, steeling my nerves, rehearsing lies in my head.

"The couch?" she says drily as she turns to face me.

It is with an inexplicable sinking feeling that I realize she has forgotten about last night.

"I was tired. I dozed off there," I reply, voice perfectly calm, eyes not blinking, nothing that will give me away.

I can see her eyes changing colour, her lips being drawn into a tight line, her iron glare weighing me down heavily and I know that she has caught onto something.

But I do not flinch.

"I hate it when you lie," she hisses, her eyes narrowing on me.

This time, my gaze falters, my insides roll into a tight knot, my throat constricting, my voice comes out weak; defeated.

"Not now, Tori."

She continues to scrutinize me, her steely glare giving way to a look of faint realization and horror.

Her hands go up to cover her mouth, her eyes widening slightly.

"Something happened, didn't it?" she gasps.

I do not know how to reply, if to reply at all.

I curse myself for being so transparent that she could see through me, that she could piece together these abstract bits to create the complete picture.

Her voice rings in my ears once again, "Hunter, I need to know."

I cannot form words any longer, everything in my head jumbled up, refusing to make sense.

"Did we…" she lets her voice trail.

I think of all the things that I can say, all the things that I can do, to throw her off, so that she never comes to know the truth but all I do is nod my head and whisper, "We made out."

The words wound me yet again.

I cannot read her expression as she continues to stare at me, disbelief apparent on her face, denial and refusal apparent on her face.

"Hunter," she says, taking a step back. "We were drunk. I am sorry. I didn't- Oh God! That is why you were on the couch?"

I have to nod.

"I… we… what are we even going to do about this?" she rants. "I don't even fucking remember anything! It was a stupid idea: going out."

"It was my idea, had to be stupid," I mutter.

She stares at me helplessly and after a long time of silence, of awkward moments of us not knowing what to say, she says, "Will this change everything? Because I don't want things to change."

I feel the walls closing in again, the pressure of having to deal with this, too much for me. I feel like running away, like last night, like always.

"Say something, Hunter," she almost begs, her voice shaking now.

"Tor," I manage to say. "You want more and you deserve more. And I can't give you what you want. Maybe this is a mistake, it's probably all wrong. Maybe we-"

"Hunter," she cuts me off. "Don't. Don't say it's wrong. I know what you want: you want space and I am fine with it. I am fine with this. I don't want more."

"Tori…"

"No, dammit, listen to me," she says, her voice suddenly stronger. "You don't have to give more."

And with that, she closes her eyes, a tear sliding down her cheek and somehow that tear, _her_ tear, saps out all the energy and life out of me and I am left with nothing but a void within me, eating me away from within, gnawing away at me, reducing me to absolute nothingness; emptiness.

* * *

The woods seem empty today: something missing in them. When I streak through them and the birds stop chirping, I find myself thinking about her: the way she tilted her head when she chided me for streaking through the woods, the twinkle in her eyes, the slight curve in which her lips were drawn.

And then, like a fearful forceful ground shattering quake, I am reminded of her in the morning: the dryness, detachedness with which she had initially treated me, then the emotion in her, the apparent feeling of hurt, heart rippling pain.

Worst of all, she had not said a word after that, she had completely avoided me, ignored my presence and I had slunk away from her house, feeling guilty for something incomprehensible.

The clearing is incongruously empty: her absence stabbing daggers into me, the pain too stark, too powerful, demanding to be felt.

Walking through the grounds of the Academy, every damn thing leave in their wake a reminder of her.

The morning drags on mechanically: classes to teach, scripts to be corrected, the Annual Exam to be dealt with. I stay away from the woods when it is time for the Water Ninjas to train, I stay away from the common room for teachers, I avoid taking the path that takes a turn across her office.

I know that I am running away, refusing to face problems that I have created, that I am being a coward.

But I do not care.

At this point, all I care about is staying away from her, strengthening my defenses until they are sturdy enough not to be breached, perfecting the mask that will give nothing away and steeling myself to be able to withstand the onslaught of emotions that I will eventually be subjected to when I finally meet her.

* * *

It is at four in the afternoon when I have an epiphany.

The raw need, _hunger,_ to go to the track and ride overwhelms me. I have never felt this strong an urgency to do something ever in my life.

_Except that day._

Rushing to Cam's room to inform him that I am leaving early, I almost run into her.

She does not see me through the thick crowd of people but I do. There is an almost imperceptible dark circle under her eyes.

From the alcohol, I tell myself, the thought comforting me, the idea that it is not _me_ comforting me.

I turn around quickly, taking the longer circuitous way to Cam's room.

The Samurai scrutinizes me, passing snide comments here and there, before finally letting me leave; escape.

* * *

I put on my riding gear with a familiar feel of ease and comfort; I feel at home. The track is empty but for a few riders.

For the next hour or so, I have my frustration and anger aimed at a point, every lap freeing me of some of the burden. All of it does not go away but for now, this is enough: this momentary respite from the complications is enough.

I bring my bike to a stop having completed yet another lap. Removing my helmet, I am made aware of a pair of eyes fixed on me. Before I can take a good look at the person, she springs upon me, wrapping her hands around me, engulfing me into a tight hug.

"Screw you, Bradley," she whispers. "Where the hell have you been?"

I am forced to laugh at Talia's idiosyncratic exuberance.

"I was around," I say, extricating myself from her grasp. "Didn't race often, though."

"You have no idea," she says. "I tried talking to Kelly, coercing her to give me your number but she told me it was against some policy."

"Darned policy," she rolls her eyes.

"I am so glad we ran into each other," she continues. "I missed you."

"I did, too," I smile at her and for once, I know that I am not lying.

Talia Jones was one of the regulars from the track: one of the very few girls who rode. She stood out in every aspect: there was something overtly contagious about her, something addictive about her. She was one of the very first friends I had made in Blue Bay Harbour. It had started off as a one night stand but had somehow culminated into a closely knit friendship.

"Where were you, though?" she asks.

"I was here," I tell her with a sigh. "I got a job, got busy, didn't get much time to race."

"Whoa whoa whoa!" she puts her hand on my chest. " _You_ got a job? Who the hell gave you a job?"

I roll my eyes at her.

"Very amusing, Jones."

"I know you find me amusing, Bradley," she smirks. "But which nitwit gave you a job?"

"I work at a school," I say, telling my usual lie.

"What?" she shrieks dramatically. "You work with kids? Oh crap! Do I have to prep the world for a depression disorder in kids?"

"That's harsh."

"You know I don't mince my words, Bradley," she says, a teasing grin on her face. "So, what do you teach the kids? Dark magic?"

"Martial Arts."

"I was hoping you'd teach them dark magic."

"You are impossible."

"Been told worse," she says in a singsong voice.

"Do you want to grab a drink and catch up?"

I hesitate for a second.

But the hesitation seeps away very soon as I realize that no matter what happens, with Talia Jones, I do not have to worry about attachment and commitment.

* * *

For the second time in a row, I am at the beach, stoned, with a girl who is drunker than I am.

She leans onto me as we plop down on the sand.

"Okay, so, let me get this straight," she says. "You just stopped riding for more than a year? Are you Hunter Bradley?"

"I had to stop: there were commitments."

"Like what? Like the school you won't tell me about? What's with you, Bradley? Are you doing drugs?"

"No, Tally, no," I sigh. "My life is too complicated right now."

"Ah. I love complicated. Tell me about it."

"I can't, Tally. Not now."

She groans.

"So what can you explain, huh? I told you everything about me and you are still being so secretive."

"I really can't tell you anything about my job."

She huffs.

"Fine. Then, who are you sleeping with?"

I glare at her.

"What?" she groans. "That's the most important part of your life."

"Not funny," I say drily. "Not even remotely."

"Whatever," she murmurs. "Are you or not sleeping with someone?"

"No," I shrug.

"Oh holy fuck, you are in love!"

And at that, an image of Tori instantaneously pops up in my head.

_Shut. It. Out._

"Huh?" I manage to say.

"Oh gee, you _are_ in love."

"How many bottles did you drink?"

"Shut up," she barks. "Who is it?"

"I don't even know what you are talking about."

"Cut the crap, Bradley," she says. "You aren't sleeping with anyone."

"The point being?"

"Dude, I know you, okay? If you are not sleeping with anyone, you are in love."

"That's terribly judgmental. Besides, I do have my occasional one night stands. So stop judging me."

"Dude, who is she?"

"What the fuck, Tally?"

"Aw, come on, Hunter. Your secret is gonna be safe with me. Come on, please."

"There is no one, really."

"Gee, you lie too much. But if you don't wanna talk about it, fine," she huffs.

I do not reply.

"Hey wait!" she says, sitting up straighter. "Are you in love with some underworld druglord's daughter? Or wife?"

With that, she breaks into hysterical laughter.

"If it's that, don't tell me 'cause although I really really hate you, I don't want you to die."

"Aren't you funny?"

"I know I am," she grins at me. "How is your brother?"

"Good."

I instantly cringe at my answer. My answer sounds horribly inert. I would have expected to string together a few more words to describe how my brother was but clearly not. Because, honestly, I did not know how he was. He stopped telling me all that and I stopped asking him.

"I see him a lot on TV," she says, chewing her nails. "What happened to that girl he liked? That surfer chick? I always thought they would end up getting married and having seven kids or something."

I feel my breath choking me, her words a sharp reminder of what I can never be to Tori.

"They broke up," I state matter-of-factly.

"Ah," she sighs. "What was she called, again?"

"Tori."

"Yeah, Tori," she says. "I liked her."

"Yeah," I say, not trusting myself to talk about Tori, not wanting to talk about Tori.

"Was their break-up bad?"

_Shit._

Why do we even have to talk about this out of every goddamned subject on earth?

"I don't know, Tally," I say. "Blake never told me much about it."

Which was true because Blake actually had not told me anything about it. Whatever I knew about it was what I had learnt from Tori.

"Oh."

"I think we should call it a night," I say.

"Yeah," she sighs. "Do you have to go to that school of yours tomorrow?"

I nod.

She gets up from the sand, pulling me up with her.

"Don't depress too many kids, okay?"

"I'll keep that for you," I mutter.

"Of course you will," she says. "I need your number, though. And, my battery is dead so scribble it on my hand."

She hands me a pen from somewhere. Where, I don't know; I am too tired to think about that.

My hand shakes as I jot down the number, the alcohol clearly affecting me.

"This is just like the first time we met," she laughs, leaning in slightly, her jet black hair brushing loosely against my face.

I wonder if it is me wondering things or if it really is happening: her laughter ceasing, absolute silence reigning around us, her hands going around my neck, her eyes locking on mine, the distance between us reducing as she closes in on me.

Our foreheads come together, her breathing ragged, her eyes fluttering close.

"Hunter," she whispers, her voice doing strange things to me.

"Yeah?" I breathe out, brushing my lips against hers gently.

"We are drunk," she says.

"I know," I rasp, brushing our lips together again.

This is an outlet that I have found, something to make me forget about Tori. And, even if it is unfair, incorrect, at this point, I hardly care about it. My mind is too clouded to do all that thinking.

I let my hands slip inside her top, caressing her skin.

"Hunter," she whispers. "What about that druglord's daughter? Won't she-"

This time, I cut her off, silencing her with my lips, earning a soft groan from her. Her hands clasp themselves around my hair and when we finally pull back, she whispers, "You know I won't be there in the morning."

* * *

_Blood._

Blood caked my hands, giving them a dark, deathly look.

My hands trembled refusing to believe what they had done. There was a loud sound as the knife slipped out of my hands and fell onto the floor, staining the white tiles with their ominous red.

The tremble in my hands refused to stop. My breath was ragged, uneven and very soon, tears started rolling down my cheeks, giving way to a violent series of hiccups and as my tears drained out, I felt the resistance from within me being siphoned away to a place that I did not know of, diminishing me into a raw, exposed ball of fragile vulnerability.

* * *

I wake up with a start, the dream – nightmare – too animistic for my comfort.

True to her words, Talia cannot be found in my room. The only thing that she has left behind is a note for me telling me not to lose contact with her.

I crumple the note into a ball and throw it into the dustbin.

Getting out of my bed, putting on my clothes, noting where the hands of the clock meet, I leave my house; the dark world, without the sun, welcoming me with a warm embrace.

* * *


	5. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lines, they say, are the simplest things to draw. But sometimes, the simplest of all things can be the most difficult to find and then, perhaps, all you are left with is broken lines.

**Tori**

* * *

But I'm only human  
And I bleed when I fall down  
I'm only human  
And I crash and I break down  
Your words in my head, knives in my heart  
You build me up and then I fall apart  
'Cause I'm only human.

_Human,_

Christina Perri.

* * *

By now, I have formed a rhythm in my mind; a pattern. My hands are working on automatic, the counting is happening perfunctorily. It is all very mechanical, comfortably and conveniently mechanical. No need to think, no need to _feel,_ just work.

My fingers flip through the pages again.

One. Two. Three.

Count again.

One. Two. Three.

Stack.

My fingers wrap around the cold metallic body, the coldness providing me with a certain warmth.

The pages are sandwiched between the open arms of the stapler: nowhere to go, no place to breathe, no escape.

One press and the pin pierces through the paper, binding it, fastened together, strong for the moment but one brutal tug at the paper and all that is left is an unbound mess of torn sheets, no longer strong, just weak and exposed.

* * *

My stapling escapade ranges the entire morning. In all my fury and distracted detachedness, I almost a drive a pin through my fingers once, and that compels me to cut down on the speed of my murderous venture.

I do not notice when the clock strikes twelve: time for a class. The minutes drag on, more and more pages being stapled, bound, when there is a knock on the door. I jump at that since I am not expecting anyone.

"Come in," I call out.

The door opens slowly and for a moment, I think it is him.

That thought fills me with ambiguous feelings: anger at first that he would have the nerve to come here, longing and desire to see him, and then contentment that perhaps it could be, and would be fixed.

But it isn't him, it is the Air Ninja who appears through the door.

"Shane," I sigh and I hear the disappointment in my voice.

Hope he doesn't.

_Hope I hadn't._

"Tori," he says and sits down in the chair opposite to mine.

There are lines of worry appearing on his face and I know that this is not just a friendly visit.

"What did you want?" I ask him, stapling another bunch of sheets.

He does not reply and I am forced to lay aside the stapler for a while and meet his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

I am surprised at the question because as far as I was concerned, I was convinced that I had made a decent attempt at hiding in my room the entire morning under the pretext of arranging official documents, and not doing anything that would suggest that I was not okay.

Because, hell, I was not okay.

_Not at all._

"Of course I am," I chuckle. "Why wouldn't I be?"

The worry on his face persists.

"I don't know," he sighs. "You do not really forget to go to classes."

My eyes widen at that and the realization comes crashing in that I have a class now.

"Fuck," I curse under my breath, springing up from my chair. "I got too wrapped up in the damned papers."

Shane gets up from his chair too.

"How the hell did I forget?" I ramble to myself.

"It's okay, Tori, it really is," he reassures me. "You could take the day off, you know."

"No. No, I can't take the day off. Why would I want to take the day off?" I retaliate, the mordant words surprising me.

There is silence for a few seconds and I feel uncertainty and nervousness seep into me.

"Tori," he begins calmly, voice authoritative and commanding. "I do not know what is wrong. I do not know if something is wrong. But clearly, you are stressed and you being tired is not going to help anyone, not your students, not you."

I sense my grit fading, my facade of strength weakening, the mask that I have been wearing from the morning slipping.

"I think you need some time off from the Academy. We all know that you have been overworking yourself and one afternoon off surely wont hurt," he continues. "And I don't want you telling me that you don't need a break because you do. You deserve a break."

I sigh.

"What about the Water Ninja classes? I have two more classes in the evening."

"Let me look into that."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"It's water, Shane. What looking into will you do?" I ask sceptically.

"Leave that up to me, Tor," he says. "Take the afternoon off and pamper yourself for once. It will do you some good."

I nod, too tired to protest.

Besides I do need time away from the Academy. I need some time away from people, I need some solitude and peace.

He nods and turns around to leave.

"And Tori?" he turns back, voice softening, no longer domineering. "You can always talk to me if something is wrong."

I smile, gratitude swelling up within me, his words a reminder that even when the world changes colours faster than a blink, some things remain constant, some bonds remain, strengthening silently and surfacing with their powerful constancy when the variables all around get too chaotic.

* * *

I see blue eyes in the halls of the Academy, I see what I am trying to run away from.

_Not running away from him._

Guilt washes over me when I see him.

Why, I do not know. I had not done anything wrong. Not really.

I had not shot barbed words, blatantly telling him that it was over, that whatever we had was wrong, that it was a mistake that needed stopping.

That was him.

It is always him, trying to end things, to break things, pushing others away, and it is always me, trying to fix his mess.

But how long can one hold together fractured fragments that only want to break away?

* * *

"You too?" the Samurai raises his eyebrows.

"Sorry?"

He rolls his eyes.

"Never mind," he mutters. "It's quite alright. I can do with all my teachers wanting the afternoon off."

"Who else?"

He raise his eyebrows again, disbelief written all over his face.

"Who else?" I reiterate.

"Hunter."

* * *

I do not know where I am going until I find myself in Storm Chargers, under the heavy glare of a redhead.

"What in the world did you do to yourself?" she asks, raising he eyebrows, startled perhaps, to find _me_ as a drunken broken dishevelled mess.

I look around; the shop is unnaturally empty for a weekday afternoon.

"Why is no one here?" I ask her, evading her question.

She narrows her eyes before replying. "There is a skating event today. I do not expect customers till the evening."

"Oh," I sigh, finding nothing more to say.

I look away, suddenly regretting my decision to come here. I had not realized that my appearance was so telling that one look at me and people could tell how much of a fucked up mess I was.

"What happened to you?" she asks again.

"Hangover."

"And?"

"And nothing."

I know she does not believe me. I am bad when it comes to looking at people in the eye and lying without missing a beat.

"Okay," she says. "So why are you here? Aren't you working?"

Kelly- and the world- knows that I work at a school, an hour away from Blue Bay Harbour, as a martial arts teacher. Hunter's is the same lie. Shane works for his father and so does Dustin. Cam does not need a cover, not really. It is easier to lie about jobs like these- jobs that people will never bother looking into.

"I took the day off," I tell her. "I was not feeling up to it in the morning. I still don't."

"I did not think that you were the type that got drunk and had a shitty hangover the next morning," she tells me, slight amusement in her words.

"I did not either," I mumble.

"But there were reasons," I find myself telling her. "Reasons why I got drunk."

"Yeah?"

I chew on my bottom lip and nod lamely, wondering why the hell I told that to her.

"Care to explain, maybe?"

I sigh.

It isn't that I don't want to explain my situation- my predicament- to Kelly but doing so will involve questions that I do not want to answer, questions that I do not have answers to.

Kelly has always been a friend: not too close, not too distant. I am beginning to realize that is the kind of friends that remains. She has always been there for us, especially me. She did not stop being a friend even after the guys stopped working here, telling us that Storm Chargers remained open to us.

She is still looking at me, expecting an answer and I tell her the only thing that comes to my mind.

"I really really screwed up."

I wait for a reaction, so much as a blink, widening of her eyes, _something_ , but there is nothing.

"We all do," she quietly sighs.

"I did something that I should not have done and I ended up hurting someone I… someone I really care for," I eject, half-processing all that I am saying.

I am under no compulsion to tell her all this. I could just lie. I probably would not be very good at it but I could always lie.

But today, for some reason, I do not want to lie. I want to let it all out: this tangled mess of lies, complications, feelings and emotions.

I could not have possibly told all this to Shane or Dustin, or Cam, for that matter. They are too close. And sometimes, it becomes difficult, opening up to someone that close.

I can trust Kelly with all that I am saying, all that I am about to say. She is a patient listener who rarely gets tired of listening to others.

"What happened exactly?" she asks, dropping down on the ground, her back resting against the couch.

I drop down too, sitting across her.

"Lots of things happened. Crazy things happened. Things that should not have happened, happened and I liked those things, I let those things happen but… I sound like a complete idiot," I trail off, realizing how ridiculous I sound.

"No, you don't," she tells me. "I know what this is all about."

My eyes probably widen at that and a shocked expression writes itself all over my face.

"It's Hunter, isn't it?"

I feel my face flush at her words. There is utter abhorrence that I feel for myself for being so damned transparent and there is the faint stirring of _something_ within me at the mention of his name.

My silence gives her the answer that she wants.

"I have always had this part of me that has told me so," she says. "You know, he really cares about you. I know Blake comes first for him but after that, it is clearly you. Sometimes I'm convinced he cares about you more than he cares for Blake. He-"

"He hates me now, Kel," I whisper, tears forming in my eyes.

_I am not going to cry over this._

"I hurt him. I pushed him too far. I crossed a line that was not to be crossed," I ramble, my voice breaking. "He deserves to hate me. I-"

"He could never hate you, Tori," she says. "I know Hunter tends to keep things bottled up and hell, there is no one better than him when it comes to lying and pretending but if there is one thing about him that is not a mystery, it is how he feels about you. I have seen him change ever since the two of you became close. He is a different person, a better person, because of you. You make him happy and he makes you happy. I have seen your face light up when he is around and you cannot really gauge Hunter's emotions from his expressions but he likes having you around. I have never seen him talking to someone as much as he does with you. You have not seen him worry about you when you disappear for hours, trying to catch a wave."

I feel a ghost of a smile settling across my face at that, but I am shaken by the brutal truth of reality.

"I believed we had something. I thought that there was something between us and if I gave it time, if I gave Hunter his space, someday he would open up to me, stop being so aloof and dark. And that we could perhaps become something more: that I could be something more to him.

"And I know that he feels the same way about me. I know that he wants me just as much as I do. We have been in this complicated shit for months, for years. We have been more than friends yet we have been nothing but friends. We never crossed that line. Initially, it was Blake, I think, that held us back. But even after that. We never really crossed that line. I dated other guys and he, well, he slept around but despite all that, I know that he means more to me than any of those guys and that I mean more to him than any of those girls.

"And although every step of every day, I grew to crave for more, I did not let that change anything because for me, it was more important to have him in my life, than not to have him at all."

"What has changed?"

"Everything, I think. I thought maybe when we did cross that line, things would fall into place, that he would let me in but clearly that is not how things work. We went out last night. We got drunk. And I don't remember a thing but he tells me that we made out. He was so different in the morning, Kelly. He was once again that guy with all his issues buried deep underneath and he just would not let me in.

"He told me that what we were was wrong, that it was a mistake that should be stopped. He told me he could not give me what I wanted."

"And what do you want?"

I bury my face in my palms.

"I thought I wanted security, some sort of stability but now I am beginning to realize that all along, all that I ever wanted was him."

She gives my arm a squeeze.

"Why do you think he hates you?"

"Because I made him do something that he would never have done. He is too hard on himself, you know that."

"You think you made him do something? Tori, this is Hunter. He does things only if he wants to."

"He wouldn't have done it had I not behaved like a drunk, throwing myself all over him."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he was explicit enough in explaining how we were wrong in the morning."

I do not understand where she is going with all this but I have had enough false hope and I cannot let her make me things that will never happen. I let things get to me very easily, I fall for illusions far too easily, I can't let it happen all over again, I won't let it happen all over again.

"He is scared, Tori. That's all he is. You have to give him some time and he will come around."

_Not going to believe that._

"He does not hate you, that much I can reassure you. Just give it some time."

"I don't think we can go back to being what we were."

"No, you probably can't but maybe you could be something more like you have always wanted."

"Right now, I would be happy to just have him in my life," I say, letting out a sad laugh. "I don't want him to build his walls and hide behind them again."

"Then, don't let him."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"You know how: go talk to him."

"Did you even listen to all that I said?" derision leaks out of my voice.

"Of course I did and I know that it will be infinitely better for both of you to just talk and fix things than to wallow in self pity and drown in your self inflicted pain."

"But why me? Why should I talk? I am not the one who screwed up, who always screws up."

"You could let your pride come in the way and do nothing to fix this or you could set aside your pride and give it another try."

I open my mouth to protest but the glass door to the shop opens and a customer walks in.

Kelly is on her feet at once and turning around, she shoots her final words, leaving me in a daze.

"Think what you want and work towards it. You don't want to wait till it's too late."

* * *

That night, I toss and turn in bed. I am haunted by memories, vibrant images of the past. I cannot sleep and after hours of futile attempts to drift off, I finally give up.

I remove the covers off me and get p to dress up and leave. The bright blue light of the digital clock has 4:08 displayed on it and suddenly, I know exactly where I have to go.

* * *

Surfboard in hand, I am at the beach half an hour later. The sun has not risen yet and the beach is empty.

Empty but for that one lone figure in the distance: sitting alone, so forlorn, shrunken to a tiny speck, threatening to disappear at any moment.

Mind made up, I walk towards him, Kelly's words playing in my ears, knowing exactly what I have to do.

One deep breath and a few long strides and I am behind him.

"Hunter?"

His back stiffens and after a moment's hesitation, he finally turns back to look at me, the look in his eyes empty and ghostly.

"Tori," he sighs, looking away into the distance.

He sits up straighter and I take that as an invitation to sit.

I let myself sink into the sand, not too close to him, not too distant.

He does not look at me again and I don't either. We do not speak, just bask in the presence of the other as we watch the sun come out and cast its blinding light upon us.


	6. Semi-Automatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lines, they say, are the simplest things to draw. But sometimes, the simplest of all things can be the most difficult to find and then, perhaps, all you are left with is broken lines.

**Hunter**

* * *

I'm never what I like, **  
**I'm double sided, and I just can't hide, **  
**I kind of like it when I make you cry, **  
**'Cause I'm twisted up, I'm twisted up inside my mind. **  
**I'm semi-automatic, my prayer's schizophrenic, ****  
But I'll live on, yeah I'll live on, yeah I'll live on.

\- _Semi-Automatic,_

Twenty One Pilots.

* * *

She is a ghost beside me. Ever since she has been here, she has not spoken a word. Neither have I.

The dysfunctionality of the situation should be bothering me but it does not. Somehow these moments of silence, of words unspoken, calms me down.

 _She_ calms me down.

I had left my house haunted by yet another nightmare. This time, it had been so specific that it almost felt real. Usually they were vague and inchoate: fragments that I kept differentiated. But last night was different and I did not know how to deal with it.

The beach had been the last place on my mind when I had left but it was here that I had wound up. I always end up here, amidst the winds and the waves.

Her presence here had caught me off-guard and with every moment that I remain with her, I begin to question every single thing that I told her last morning.

Maybe I do not feel that way.

_Not really._

Having her in my life has been the best thing that could have happened to me and no matter how much I try to prevaricate, there is no denying that she makes my life better. With her around, I can survive, live through a day without screwing up everything. Without her, I am a mess.

I know that it is a deeply horrible situation for me to be in: to depend on someone this hopelessly. But I was the one who had created this completely blind reliance and dependence and honestly, I do not seem to mind it that much.

Thinking back to yesterday, I can safely say that I regret my words. I know they hurt her, _I_ hurt her. But what else could I have done? I am not- I probably will never be- ready to have her in my life in any other way but this.

Because commitment scares me.

I had thought that maybe I would be ready whenever we crossed that line but I was wrong.

_Like always._

Perhaps I should apologize, tell her that I did not mean everything that I said. She would understand, I think. Or maybe it is too much to expect of her: to expect that she will forgive me every single time.

I don't know. I just don't know.

I close my eyes, trying to clear my head of all its thoughts, but as soon as I do so, an unbidden thought arises: her lips on my neck.

_Fuck._

I risk a sideways glance at her. She is sitting fairly away and I know that she has calculated it all very well.

_Damn her._

She is looking away into the sea, her hands wrapped around her surfboard. I crave to fill the void, I hate being so close yet so far away, but words do not come to me.

What is it with words always failing us when we need them the most?

By now, people have started coming in and the beach is growing too crowded. I wonder how long we sat here, not talking.

I should have said something, should have initiated some sort of a conversation.

_Could have told her about the nightmare._

"Do you want to get out of here?" her voice cuts through my thoughts.

She is not looking at me, she hasn't looked at me in the eye the entire morning.

"Yeah, okay," I mumble.

_String together a few more damned words._

"Didn't you want to surf?"

"Yeah, well," she sighs. "Another day, perhaps."

She is up on her feet and after a moment's hesitation, extends her hand in my direction. I take hold of it and she grabs on tighter, not letting go of me even after I am standing.

"You didn't sleep last night, did you?" she softly says, examining my face.

I shake my head as she squeezes my hand sympathetically.

_She has to stop being so damn nice with me._

"Would you like some breakfast, Hunter?" she asks. "I'm really hungry."

"Okay," I nod.

She lets go of my hand, a half smile appearing on her face. For a moment, watching her smile, I forget all that has happened, all that has gone wrong and I smile back, my heart wrenching as soon as I do so.

* * *

We get pancakes for breakfast, because she insists that we do.

It is a small cafe by the beach that she leads me to. Settling to a seat in the corner, she orders us both pancakes, some of her ebullience having returned. I am glad for that.

_Makes me feel less guilty._

"I'm supposed to meet Cam today to discuss about the Annual Exam," she says, pulling a face.

This is not normal: it is far away from normal. But if this is what she chooses to do, so will I. If she decides never to bring up that night or that morning, it will stay that way. After all my escapism, I do not deserve to decide how things will play out. And so, I go along with her, talking like nothing has changed.

It is not difficult. I have never found it difficult to hold a conversation with her but the tension in the air is palpable, every word measured and calculated, the usual banter is missing, the free flowing spontaneity curbed, everything restricted.

"Last day, he kept me in for an hour, discussing about it," I say, avoiding eye contact.

She lets out a little laugh.

"I hate correcting the scripts after the exam," she groans, taking a bite of her pancake.

"Tell me about it," I echo her lack in enthusiasm.

We lapse into an uncomfortable silence, the occasional sound of cutlery and the chatter of other customers reigning around us.

_Fuck it._

We take each other's names simultaneously; in sync. There are a few seconds of perplexed silence as we both look at each other, full and proper, for the first time in the morning.

I feel the tension mounting in the air, bit by bit, insidious in its ways, to create something lethal noiselessly, to create something that could erupt to set everything ablaze.

I am still looking at her, as is she. Staring would perhaps be the more appropriate word.

And slowly, I feel my defenses weakening, my insides clenching and I know, another moment of this _thing_ and I will end up doing something that I will regret. I have to stop myself from feeling, from thinking.

_Thinking about touching her._

Fuck.

I have to physically restrain myself and almost instantly, I clench my hands into a tight fist, my finger nails digging deep into my palms.

_Pain._

Now, I can focus on that. I no longer have to focus on Tori's piercing stare, no need to confront anything.

_Shut it out._

I refuse to think. I force my mind to shut down. I am working hard to remove every fragment of her from my mind: _everything_ , that night, her kiss, her touch, that morning, her words, her tears, this moment, when she speaks slowly, "Hunter, I am sorry."

I clench my fists tighter, the nails digging deeper.

_Perhaps I have cut myself._

She is looking at me expectantly now. I am supposed to say something.

_Words._

"I…" I flounder, throat constricting, body and mind revolting to this situation. This is not supposed to happen. I am not supposed to feel this way.

"I'm sorry too," I breathe out, words barely audible.

She lowers her gaze and I feel the leaden weight being lifted off my shoulders.

I can breathe.

"I should not have pushed you, Hunter," I hear her saying. "It's your life, you need your space and I-"

"Tori," I cut her off, my hands trembling now. "Not now."

Her eyes widen and I know, she hates me at that moment for my evasive ways.

_I hate myself too._

But right now, I cannot talk. Not when I have had those few moments of turbulent whirring thoughts that I cannot even understand.

"Please," I hiss, voice subservient.

Finally, she nods.

Looking away, she whispers, uncertainty coating her words, "We'll fix this, Hunter."

* * *

I walk her to her van, maintaining as much distance as I can.

We do not talk about it anymore, instead ramble about the most random subjects, albeit with spans of awkward silence.

I wonder how long it will take for these silences to stop coming back to our conversations.

Her blue van looms up in view. Closing in, she says, "I can drop you home, you know."

"No, thanks," I say, almost immediately, surprising myself too. Covering up, I add lamely, "I have to pick up some stuff on the way back home."

She sighs, almost with disappointment.

"Okay, then I'll see you later."

"Yeah," I nod and turn away to leave.

That is when I feel it: a deep and painful twist inside, guilt lurching within.

_Darn._

Turning back, I stop her, "Tori."

"Yeah?"

"I'll meet you at the woods."

I think I see her smile.

* * *

I find her waiting for me by the waterfall, her eyes closed, a jet stream of water dancing in between her palms.

"Hey," I say, walking up to her.

She jumps a little, her eyes opening abruptly.

"You are here," she frowns. "I did not realize. The birds, they didn't stop chirping."

"Yeah," I say, running a hand through my hair. "I did not streak today."

Her frown deepens, the water in between her palms slowly losing its shape, "Why?"

"You always told me not to."

* * *

I lose myself in teaching that day: letting the nuances of my art absorb me, engorge me.

I spend most of the day out in the woods, tackling hordes of teenagers on my own, correcting their postures, revising their attacks, doctoring their defenses. Three years in the business, it has now become effortless; perfunctory.

I know where the weaknesses lie. I know what will expose them. I know students inside out by now.

Initially, I had my qualms about teaching. Hell, it was not even just teaching. I was supposed to run a whole academy of ninjas. It scared the shit out of me, to be honest. I have never been a people's person; talking just does not work for me.

_Quite clearly._

I had no idea how I was supposed to run an entire academy with my less than average social skills but somehow, things fell into place, they gelled.

The students were- are- in awe of me. Donning a coloured suit and saving the world has certain perks. Besides, I had Leanne assisting me and Sensei Omino tirelessly mentoring me.

Two years down the line, when we decided to merge with the Wind Ninja Academy, I did have my initial reservation about it. I was forced to give up yet another home but it was the right thing to do. We were rebuilding ourselves after the catastrophe that Lothor had left behind in his wake and we could really use all the help that we could gain.

I was skeptical about how the change would play out: these were two schools with long standing animosity. I was not sure if Blake and my collaboration with the Winds could bridge that gap but surprisingly, it did.

We had the usual uprising of rebel groups but they were so few in number and so powerless in their attempts that they failed to taint the greater purpose.

My fourth class in the day reaches its completion and I feel the slightest of weariness seep into me. Trudging my way back to the Academy, I am intercepted by Dustin.

A very worried looking Dustin.

"You look kinda upset," I comment as he starts walking with me.

"Dude, we have a crisis."

I stare at him in confusion. I can never gauge the intensity of any situation from Dustin's words.

"We do?" I ask unsurely.

"Yeah, man," he sighs audibly. "Big time."

"Well, what is it?"

"Shane knows."

"Knows what?" I frown.

"The bet," he cringes. "Our bet about him and Kapri."

Realization dawns upon me then. That long forgotten bet about whether Shane and Kapri were indeed dating.

"Fuck," I curse. "How?"

He fidgets with his hands and uncomfortably mumbles, "I might have let the words slip out of my mouth."

"What the-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he cuts me off. "It is ridiculous."

I shake my head ruefully.

"Is he pissed?" I venture.

"Pissed?" Dustin cries out. "He is ballistic, man. He punched me. Like, _freaking_ punched me and it hurts."

I cannot help but laugh at that, laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"Laugh all you want," Dustin says. "I bet that is exactly what is in store for you."

That shuts me up.

* * *

I enter Shane's room warily. He has his back turned to me and is talking to someone I cannot see.

Hearing me, he turns around, a smile lining his face.

_Trouble._

It is Tori behind him and she starts giggling uncontrollably when she sees me. It is the happiest that I have seen her in the last few days and for a moment, I forget that Shane exists in the room.

"Hunter, my man," Shane takes a step closer to me, breaking my trance.

"Hey," I say uncomfortably. "I just came here to apologize, you know, about-"

"About what?" he asks, smiling again, taking another step closer.

I risk a glance at Tori who has an amused look on her face.

"You know," I trail off.

"No, I don't," he says, voice turning menacing.

_Damn Dustin._

"The bet," I cringe. "It was a stupid thing."

The smile disappears from his face, all signs of amusement gone from his voice, "Damn right, it was!"

"I am sorry, bro. I-"

I am stopped midway through my sentence by a solid punch in my abdomen.

"Fuck," I groan, clutching myself from the sides. "That was extreme, dude!"

"I know," he says, patting me on the back. "What you did was extreme too."

Meanwhile, Tori is in stitches.

"Don't do it again, _bro_ ," he hisses, this time slapping me hard on the back.

"Screw you, man," I groan in agony as he leaves the room.

I stoop with pain, clutching my stomach. In fits by now, Tori makes her way to me, helping me stand.

I feel myself stiffening at the contact, all those _stupid_ confusing thoughts rushing back. But one look into her face that is so incredibly childishly pleased at my plight, I am made to forget it all.

Maybe, just maybe, we can live one moment without awkward silences spurred by the stupidest of mistakes.

"Stop laughing," I complain petulantly.

"It's really funny," she says, in between bursts of hysterical laughter.

It is absurd but I find myself laughing too. "It did hurt, just so you know."

"Yeah, I know," she says, trying very hard to stop laughing.

"I think he broke something."

"You don't have bones in your abdomen, Hunter," she pulls a face, her laughter controlled now.

"Maybe the impact broke a rib," I mumble.

"It was Shane who hit you, Hunter," she rolls her eyes. "Not the Hulk."

"He is the Hulk," I mutter. "Except the green."

She laughs at that and before I can process what is happening, she starts undoing my shirt.

"Tori," I gasp, feeling her hands on me.

_What the fuck?_

"I am just checking," she says, voice guarded.

She lifts my t-shirt to expose my stomach.

I don't know if she feels it too: the walls closing in, pushing everything but her into oblivion, forcing me to narrow my focus onto her.

_Just her._

I don't react, let her do whatever she is doing.

"It's nothing," she says. "You completely overreacted."

"Yeah," I manage to say, my breathing a little ragged now.

_Why does this keep happening?_

She looks up at me then, letting her hands abruptly fall from my stomach.

I think she feels it too: the change in the texture of the air. The twinkle in her eyes disappears and I see something else replacing the mischief.

She stands up straighter, something defiant about her look.

And then, she takes a step closer, her hand resting on my chest, over my beating heart, never for once breaking eye contact with me.

A voice screams in my head to stop, to step back but there is a tiny part of me reminding me that the last time I stopped, the last time I stepped back, it ended badly.

And so, like a man who needs his drugs, I bend down to kiss her on the lips, my hands wrapping around her waist. She gasps into the kiss, pressing herself closer. We continue, two broken souls, broken by each other, needing nothing but each other.

It is she who pulls back, her breathing faster than usual.

"We need to talk," she whispers.

_Talk._

"Isn't it the talking that screwed us?" I smile wryly.

"Hunter," she sighs, stepping back, creating some distance. "We still need to talk."

I sigh, the realization that I cannot possibly run away from all her attempts to talk, crashing down on me. Besides, she was trying to fix this, the best I could do was help.

And so, I stand there, contemplating the best way to apologize, deciding what to say when she softly whispers, a look of exasperation crossing her features, "I can't do this, Hunter. Not like this."

I open my mouth but she cuts me off, her words like barbed arrows, "I am not one of your girls."

I freeze, my hands going numb; dead. My heart drops to my stomach which is nothing but a lifeless pit and I feel myself break: from the inside, into a thousand pieces.

* * *

I upturn the dustbin in my bedroom with frantic desperation. Sifting through the trash, I find the crumpled piece of paper that I am looking for, the one with a phone number scribbled on it.

Tally.

* * *

The door opens almost as soon as I knock.

Tally leans against the door, scrutinizing me.

"You don't look okay," she comments, letting me enter her apartment.

Closing the door behind me, I spew, "Who said I am?"

She gives me yet another scrutinizing look before venturing, "Do you want to talk about it?"

I pull her in close. Pinning her against the wall, I press my lips on hers; fierce and demanding.

_Needy._

"No," I find myself saying. "I want to forget about it."

* * *

My fingers caressed the cold metal, death in its touch.

_One sharp stab into the heart and it would all be over._

The weapon felt heavy in my hand, the weight of everything bogging me down.

Running my fingers along the blade, I watched myself bleed and when I felt myself fading into the black, away and away, I put the knife straight through my heart.

What followed was _her_ scream.

* * *

I wake up with a start, my heart thudding in my chest. I have to take a few controlled deep breaths to stop the rapid hammering.

My thoughts are foggy and it takes me a good couple of minutes to realize where I am.

Breathing still uneven, mind clogged with a million thoughts, I find my way in the darkness, retrieving the clothes that had been discarded last night.

Dressed, taking a departing glance at Tally, who is sleeping peacefully, I leave her room.

I am about to leave her apartment when a voice makes me jump, "Does she know that you are leaving?"

I turn around sharply, body automatically settling into a fighting posture.

Soft laughter ricochets around me as a young woman steps out of the shadows.

"I share this place with Tally," she laughs, switching on a light, its yellow light flooding my surroundings. "I'm sure that she did not mention that."

"No," I shake my head, letting my fisted hands drop to my sides.

She rolls her eyes and asks again, a smirk playing on her lips, "So, does she know that you are leaving?"

I grasp for words.

"I… we… it isn't-"

She cackles at my inability to provide an explanation and dismisses me with a wave of the hand, "I'm just playing, don't worry."

I nod, uncomfortable in this effervescent ebullience when all I want to do is get away.

"What did you say your name was again?" I ask lamely.

Running a hand through her blonde curls, she says cheekily, "I didn't. It's Aria, by the way."

"I'm Hunter."

And for once, her face loses its colour and she whispers, "My father hated that name."

* * *


	7. Mess is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lines, they say, are the simplest things to draw. But sometimes, the simplest of all things can be the most difficult to find and then, perhaps, all you are left with is broken lines.

**Tori**

* * *

Do you like walking in the rain?  
When you think of love, do you think of pain?  
You can tell me what you see  
I will choose what I believe.

Hold on, darling  
This body is yours,  
This body is yours and mine  
Well hold on, my darling  
This mess was yours,  
Now your mess is mine.

_-Mess is Mine,_

Vance Joy.

* * *

I do not remember the last time I felt like this: alive and energized. The sound of the waves lapping around me is calming and as I drift further away from the shore, leaving the chaos and pandemonium of civilization behind, I find the blaring obstreperous noises in my head slowly ceasing as I listen to the gentle heartbeat of mother nature. The serene silence that reigns around me feels unfamiliar, the past few days having been dominated by nothing but inconclusive tumultuous wars in my head. I cannot recall the last time when I could think of something other than the hurt and the pain, the afflicting clenching of my heart, anf the persistent void within me and us, irreparably broken, hopelessly fractured and irretrievably shattered. I do not remember the last time I felt anything more than a wrecked mess with a throbbing heart, the last time when I did not feel my insides crumbling, the last time when I did not feel guilty for barreling presumptuous spiteful words at him.

By now, I have paddled out farther into the salty body of water, my element surrounding me, wrapping its powerful protective arms around me as I stand and feel the rush of adrenaline surge through my body dropping gracefully into what is known as the drop. Here, in the midst of vast expanses of my element, everything has been reduced to a watery blur when I find myself set up with a tube, a tunnel of water cocooned around me and I can breathe again while my eyes focus on the foam beneath my board instead of constantly searching the horizon for him, thinking of him, of the people on the beach, and to the conflicts in my head. Here, I can focus on the feeling of empowerment and allowing the water all around to heal me, rejuvenate me, fix me.

* * *

Back on the beach, I cannot help but keep a lookout for him. It is not a conscious effort; if anything at all my conscience screams at me to avoid him, to keep myself away from him. Because every time we are together, we end up creating more problems, more confusions, more tension rather than resolve anything. I wonder why we do it, how we manage to do it.

I had always pictured us like two parts of a well oiled machine: we worked in unison, in sync; we understood each other better than anyone, we did not need words to communicate. Silence was our strongest weapon. We had each other's back all the time, we saved each other from our own demons; we were perfect together...

Only, we were never together.

Perhaps we were that unfinished incomplete spectacular breathtaking story: nearly complete, almost concluded, almost resolved yet not quite. Perhaps that is all we were meant to be, and it was my fault asking for more...hoping for more. Perhaps this is our fairytale-a broken fairytale with tears that ford gaps and bring completion, hurt and accusation that scream longing and desire, denial spurred by passion and love.

If it is just an incomplete story and broken fairytale that I get with Hunter then that is all I want.

Because an unfinished story with Hunter is worth living for, worth dying for, worth a lifetime of pain and endless suffering rather than a complete story without him.

* * *

It is with growing alarm that I realize that today is the fourth day in a row that I have not seen Hunter at the beach, or actually four days since I saw him at all.

_Four days since we kissed._

I want to rule it out as everything but a result of the mess between us, a coincidence, a chance occurrence, anything that does not make me feel guilty. But the voice of reason in my head that has not died yet booms loud and clear: Hunter is avoiding the beach.

And me.

* * *

The woods have never felt emptier, lonelier. The walk seems longer than usual and the silence...the silence is frightening me. It threatens to swallow me, the chirping of the birds sound panicked and suppressed, and everything around me is a vague reminder of all that I have lost.

_Of who I have lost._

Every slight sound sets my heart racing in anticipation, every movement in the woods makes my insides surge with hope.

But with every step that inches me closer to the Academy, with every step that takes me closer to no one, with every step that snatches me away from the idea of him, all my hopes die: steadily veering down initially and then, suddenly and abruptly it vanishes.

Just like him.

* * *

I always look forward to the joint classes that we conduct: Shane, Dustin and I, and occasionally, Hunter and Cam. Working with all of them is reminiscent of the old Ranger days and is a reminder of the strong friendship that I have forged with them. A family I have found and cherished within them.

Hunter and Cam are absent today. I cannot say that Hunter's absence comes as a surprise; presumably, he wants to avoid these classes for the rest of his life.

"We kicked their asses today!" Dustin's enthusiastic exclamation cuts through my thoughts.

"Isn't that completely natural, considering how we are supposed to be the ones with years of training?" Shane counters flatly.

"But it still feels amazing to kick someone's ass," Dustin says, excitement unabated.

"Tell him to shut up, Tori," Shane groans. I let out a little laugh, their good natured bickering relieving some of the load off my shoulders.

They lapse into yet another argument and I listen to them, amused at their childish, puerile fights. These playful fights bring me back to how we used to be before...

Before _he_ came. And made my life a living hell.

We are almost at the waterfall when Dustin brings up Hunter. "I haven't seen Hunter in days, man. Is he okay?"

I feel the colour draining from my face at the mention of him, guilt gnawing at me for all that I said to him.

"He seemed a little under the weather the last time I saw him," Shane says, casting a sideways glance at me.

Perhaps I am over-thinking, perhaps I am not, but I recognize an underlying question in Shane's look.

"I haven't seen him in a few days," I say truthfully, voice muted and lifeless.

"Weird," Dustin deadpans. "He always talks to you."

_Shit._

I do not know how to handle this situation. I feel a pit forming in my stomach, a lump forming in my throat, a fist clenching my heart, and I fail to say anything.

"Oh Dustin! I almost forgot, Kapri wanted to talk to you," Shane interjects, clearly trying to clear the air, having picked up on my discomfort. I could always count on Shane to have my back, without needing to say a word either.

Dustin, oblivious to everything, asks with a frown on his face, "Kapri? For what?"

"I don't know," Shane shrugs. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

I am glad for this: the change of subject that Shane has brought about.

"Okay, dude, whatever," Dustin mumbles before he leaves the two of us in the woods and disappears into the waterfall.

Shane does not say anything until well after Dustin is gone.

"So, what's up?" he starts awkwardly.

"You don't have to do this, Shane," I say firmly, seeing through his efforts.

"Do what?"

"This!" I exclaim. "Try and make me talk because you think that something's wrong."

He sighs, then lowers his voice, attempting to make me vulnerable and give in to his question. "Well, is there something wrong?"

I want to scream yes, tell him that every damn thing around me is wrong, that I feel like they can never be right. One look at my face, his eyes studying mine, had him scrambling to keep me in the conversation. Apparently my face gave away my discomfort.

"Okay, you don't have to reply," Shane says before I can say anything. "But I know something is wrong. So, what's it?"

"Shane," I begin. "Can we please not talk about this?"

"Talking always helps, right? You told me that."

"Did I?" I mumble. "Stupid me."

We have reached the waterfall but Shane clearly has other plans in mind.

"Do you have classes now?" he asks.

I shake my head, wary of where this is going.

"Good," he smiles. "I have the perfect place in mind."

* * *

His perfect place turns out to be the stream that runs through the woods.

It is a place that I usually avoid since I do not exactly have happy memories of it. This used to be my favorite place when I first joined the Academy. The memories all seem of a different time, of a different world, belonging to a different person. Back then, I was hardly in the best personal space: there were problems at home, my dad did not have a job, he remained drunk for almost all of his wakeful moments, my mother's job was hardly enough to sustain a family of four and the number of boys my sister brought home in a week outnumbered the number of proper meals we had. I remember coming to the stream and drowning in my sorrows all by myself. That was a time before I found Shane and Dustin, a time before Sensei Watanabe took me under his wing, a time before I found myself. Quite naturally, I was not particularly fond of the stream: it reminded of a time I would rather forget.

But today, here with Shane, it does not hurt all that much. In fact, it seems comforting, soothing, a welcomed change from the dynamics of my daily life I decided to embrace with open arms. It is ironical, really but if there is one thing I have learned it is: all wounds can heal, all cuts can be stitched, and all the pain and hurt can be washed away.

"Now, we can talk," Shane says as we seat ourselves on the bank.

"I don't know where to begin," I admit.

"Hunter," he states simply.

I let out a wry laugh, "How does everyone figure out all my problems stem from Hunter?"

"Because _all_ problems usually stem from Hunter," he replies promptly.

"Can't agree any more," I mumble under my breath.

"Look, I don't know what's up with the two of you but you need to stop dancing around each other and do something about it because right now, both of you are hurting and it really isn't helping anyone."

"It's not that simple, Shane."

"Then, make it simple. Complications suck, okay? They seem exciting initially and give you this crazy adrenaline rush but in the long run, complications just screw up things."

"We aren't anything, Shane. It's all too twisted for me to explain."

"Tori," he sighs, wrapping an arm around me. "I don't want to know what happened between the two of you but it is killing both of you. Hunter is walking around like a zombie and I mean it-"

"You brought up a zombie in this conversation too?" I mutter.

He shrugs guiltlessly before continuing, "You look like you haven't slept in days and that is probably because you actually haven't slept in days. The two of you are clearly not on talking terms but how long can this go on?"

I awkwardly tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, nibbling on my lower lip.

"I don't know, Shane. I tried talking to him after… after…" I trail off helplessly.

"You slept together?" he offers.

"Shane! No!" I protest. "After we kissed."

"Oh," he says sheepishly. "All this because of a kiss?"

"No," I shake my head. "There's more to it."

He does not say anything and I continue, "We had always been very careful about not crossing that final line, you know. Thinking back, I still cannot explain the reason but we never became anything more. But then, a few nights back, we got drunk and we made out. I remembered nothing of it the next morning but Hunter very clearly told me that it was all a mistake. I tried to talk to him but he pushed me away. Then, he- we kissed again." I bowed my head to the side. "I haven't seen him since that."

"I still don't see where the problem lies."

"It lies in what we told each other, especially what I told him," I say. My head snaps up, the spoken words somehow driving the point home and I no longer feeling anything but guilt.

"You think you hurt him?"

"Yes," I reply, regret lacing my words.

"You should apologize to him."

"I know," I say quietly.

"Hunter loves you, Tori," he says, making my heart skip a beat. "He may be too stupid to realize it or too much of a wuss to accept it, but he does. What you both have is magic, it is the real thing, but sometimes good things don't work out and you have to let them go."

"Shane," I start to make him stop, fully knowing what he is going to say next.

"I hate to say this but you cannot wait around forever."

Cold hands wrap themselves around my heart, Shane's words chilling me, stopping me from breathing, smothering me with their truth.

* * *

At four in the afternoon, I am called away by one of my water ninjas to address a disciplinary concern, as ordered by Sensei Watanabe.

Reaching the training grounds, I realize it is a fight that had broken out between two students. Practically the entire Academy had collected to watch the drama unfold. I push my way through the crowd to find Shane, Dustin and Cam breaking up the fight.

I recognize one of the students as being one of Hunter's favorites. The other is an air ninja I do not know. For some reason, seeing the two of them glaring daggers at each other, I am reminded of Shane and Hunter when they had first met.

Shane hurls instructions upon the two of them: to first attend to their injuries and then meet him in his office. Cam, Dustin and I focus on dispersing the crowd.

Just as I begin to wonder where Hunter is, he comes to rest in front of us in his blazing glory of crimson.

My senses are kicked into overdrive at the very sight of him and it takes every bit of self restrain to not to rush to him and tell him that I am sorry, that I am not going to give up on him, that I was willing to wait for him, that I had realized that my life was better off with him in it, that I loved our broken fairytale, our unfinished story...us.

But he does not notice me, too busy inquiring of the situation in hand.

I let myself stare at him, observe him. True to what Shane had said, he looks like a zombie: barely perceptible dark circles under his eyes, the faintest hint of facial hair on him.

He probably feels my eyes on him because before he follows Shane and the students to Shane's office, he looks at me, blue eyes coming alive for a second, a smile spreading across his face, making my heart soar high with joy and plunge deep into a void with sadness, at the same time.

* * *

I visit Storm Chargers after I am done working in the Academy to meet Kelly, to thank her for last day.

When I walk in, the shop is crowded and seeing me, Kelly lets out a relieved sigh, "Thank God you are here! My cashier just pulled a Houdini on me. Can you please man the counter?"

I have to laugh at her situation and giving her a small salute, I make my way to the counter. It is an especially busy evening and I am kept busy for the next hour or so printing bills and collecting money.

Gradually, the crowd thins and Kelly comes to a tired stop beside me, collapsing onto a chair.

"I am so firing that guy!" she groans. "He just vanished without telling me anything and if I ask him about this tomorrow, he will give me a load of crap about his neighbor dying and his pet dog swallowing a bone."

"Fancy thoughts," I laugh.

"You bet," she mutters. "I am sorry for making you work. I-"

"Hey!" I cut her off. "I am always happy to help. Besides, I owe you for the other day. I wanted to thank you for listening to my whining that day."

She waves her hand dismissively, "Gee Tori, I was just being a friend. You don't have to thank me for that."

I get the feeling that she is about to say more, ask more, ask about Hunter, ask about us but she does not and we lapse into a comfortable silence, the calm occasionally disturbed by the chatter of the customers.

Our silence- my calm- is broken minutes later when a woman clad in riding gear walks in through the doors, her riding helmet tucked under her arm, her brown hair twisted into a rough bun.

It is irrational and unfounded but I dislike her from the very moment she calls out for Kelly, her voice, strong and fiery, her body language screaming feisty independence.

She is the kind of girl that turns heads, the kind I never was, the kind I could never be.

"Tally, hey!" Kelly greets her warmly.

"I need to pick up a pair of gloves for a friend of mine," she says, her lips twisting into a smirk. "But the problem is that he, being the kind of jackass he is, did not give me any specifications, just told me to find you and ask for his favorite pair of gloves. Apparently, you know all about his choices."

Kelly chuckles and I let out a forced laugh.

"I told him I am not going to come back if I get the wrong ones," she adds with a roll of her eyes.

"Alright, who is this friend of yours?" Kelly asks.

"Hunter," Tally says, rolling her eyes. "Bradley."

_Shit._

I feel the smile disappearing from my face and suddenly, I struggle for air, the walls caging me, Tally trapping me. Unknown to me, I have wrapped my hands too tightly around the edge of the counter top and Kelly worryingly glances at me. "Hey Tor? You okay?"

Tally looks confused, glancing awkwardly at me.

"Yeah," I let a fake smile color my face.

"Okay," Kelly says, a tinge of worry still in her voice. "I am going to get the gloves, hold on."

"Sure," Tally nods.

I stand awkwardly behind the counter, mind whirring with a million thoughts, heart beating inexplicably and unexpectedly loud.

"Hey," it is Tally who speaks. "I might be mistaken but aren't you Tori Hanson? Surfing?"

It is my turn to look surprised.

"Yeah," I reply, fighting to keep my voice stable. "But do I know you?"

"I am afraid not," she smiles. "I am Talia Jones. You can call me Tally. I know Hunter, you know-" she hesitates before finally saying, "Blake's brother."

"Oh," I reply, unsure of what exactly she knows about me.

"Blake used to go on and on about you. So, that's how I know of you." She smiles.

I nod, voice lost somewhere in this strange medley of feelings from a time long forgotten and ones from now, those of pain and hurt.

She clearly notices my discomfort and apologizes immediately. "I am sorry. I probably should not have brought that up. Hunter told me things did not end well between the two of you."

"Hunter told you that?" My eyes widen with disbelief.

"Oh crap," she sighs. "I realize how strange this must be for you to listen to all this from a complete stranger. Gosh! I am so stupid."

I find the initial feelings of jealousy and envy towards her changing into something far more deep rooted: hatred. She probably does not deserve it but knowing what she knows, what Hunter has told her, I cannot help how I feel.

"Look," she says. "I don't think he meant to tell me about it. He was drunk that night and we-"

She stops there, her face flushed, her ears absolutely red.

That is when I piece it all together: she is not just his friend.

What she says next goes unheard by me: I am way too deep in my thoughts, too deep writhing in my jealousy. I do not know why it hurts so bad. I know Hunter is no saint, I know he sleeps around, I have always known that but today, for some reason, the knowledge of him and this girl rips my heart apart and I feel the need to leave, to get away from this place, from her.

_Damn._

"Excuse me," I cut her off abruptly.

She looks at me with a strange expression on her face.

"I need to be somewhere," I say. "I have to leave."

"Um, okay," she says, her confusion apparent.

I leave without telling Kelly, the walls growing too thick for me to breathe and as I walk out underneath the night sky, the cold wind lashing at me, I break down into tears, crying for someone who never belonged to me.

* * *

I spend the rest of the night curled up in a corner of my bed, hiding from the rest of the world, ignoring the frequent calls from Kelly, futilely trying to read a book.

I try not to think of Hunter but he is the only thing on my mind and every time I think of him, my sobs grow harder and my heart clenches all the more.

I skip dinner and eventually fall asleep, into a sleep haunted by him, by us.

* * *

I wake up at three thirty in the night, hunger getting the better of me.

It takes me a while to leave behind the shadows of my disconcerted and discordant dreams: a few of a time forgotten, my eighteenth birthday, chasing Hunter through the water, the unexplained scar; and then ones from now: happy ones, those of our walks through the woods, our intangible intimacy and finally the ones that reduce me to tears: our kiss, the words exchanged, the heart rippling pain.

I fix myself a cup of coffee, fully aware of my less than ideal diet and as I sit alone on the couch, sipping the bitter liquid, warding off sleep, I hear someone knocking on my door.

It is four o'clock in the morning and I cannot think of anyone who would want to visit me now except-

Blonde hair plastered on his forehead, sweat coating his temples, eyes bloodshot, hands trembling as they wrap themselves around me, heart hammering so loud that I can feel it through our entwined bodies, lips quivering as they plant a desperate feverish kiss on my forehead, body shaking violently as it slumps against me, it finally registers in my mind.

Hunter Bradley is at my door.


	8. Ship To Wreck

**Hunter**

* * *

And oh my love remind me, what was it that I said?  
I can't help but pull the earth around me, to make my bed  
And oh my love remind me, what was it that I did?  
Did I drink too much?  
Am I losing touch?  
Did I build this ship to wreck?

- _Ship To Wreck,_

Florence + The Machine.

* * *

"Look what I got you, jackass," Tally's voice interrupts the train of thoughts my mind was trying to pursue.

I force a smile onto my face, shutting down my worries for the time being, as I approach her.

"Well, thank you," I tell her with a cheeky grin. "Hope that didn't cause you a lot of trouble."

"Trouble? Hell, no!" she says, mocking me. "I always take great pleasure in slaving away for your lazy ass."

"Language, lady," I reprimand her, feigning offense.

"One of these days, I swear to God, I will snap your neck, Bradley," she hisses at me.

"That would mean goodbye to the amazing sex that you are getting," I counter, snatching the pair of gloves away from her hand and putting them on.

"I get pretty amazing sex without you, just so you know," she retorts.

I laugh at that, causing her to laugh too.

It is easy with Tally; it is exactly what I want. There is no emotional or psychological baggage, no obligation to open up about my past, no silent unspoken promises made for the future, nothing except the physical aspect, which is perfectly alright as far as I am concerned.

And yet, just as I begin to indoctrinate myself with these beliefs, I am left wanting for a little more, craving for something more than a romp in the sheets, for something more than a temporary outlet, longing for something more intimate and personal, permanent.

_Tori._

I have to mentally slap myself to shake off that thought. The entire idea behind coming to the track with Tally was to forget Tori, at least  _momentarily,_ and I cannot let my mind do its wandering now.

"I met someone at Storm Chargers today," Tally's muffled voice reaches me through her helmet.

"The other guy who gives you amazing sex?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"No," she rolls her eyes.

"Tell me after I kick your ass," I tell her, putting on my helmet.

"Oh, keep wishing, Bradley." she mutters under her breath, igniting her engine.

I bring my engine to life too, the deafening roar spiking my adrenaline, forcing me to concentrate only on the race and vanquishing whatever was left of Tori from my mind.

* * *

I cannot seem to wipe the self satisfied smug grin off my face as Tally's bike comes to a halt beside mine, mere seconds after I have crossed the finishing line.

She opens her helmet in a huff and is about to launch into a tirade when I cut her off, "Better luck next time."

She groans and curses under her breath.

"Something must have been wrong with the engine," she complains petulantly.

"I am certain of that," I respond sarcastically.

"God, shut up, Hunter!"

I crack up with laughter at the look of pure disappointment and disbelief on her face.

"Maybe it is time for you to accept that I am better than you." I say, removing my gloves.

"The hell you are," she grumbles. "We'll see tomorrow."

"Ah, vengeance," I sigh dramatically.

"Shut up!" she barks.

"You weren't too bad yourself," I continue despite the furious glare she is sending me. "Just a little rusty."

"Remember what I said about snapping your neck?" she hisses. "I meant it."

"Yeah, I know," I smile at her.

"Remove that smug grin from your face, for God's sake," she mutters helplessly.

"I am trying."

"Well, try harder," she spits before walking away.

* * *

It is after we leave the track, no particular destination in our minds, when I remember about our earlier conversation.

"Who did you meet at Storm Chargers, bu the way?" I ask her.

"Oh, Blake's ex," she says. "Tori."

_Fuck._

What is wrong with the world and my damn life? How does Tori end up appearing in every conversation that I have? Is it entirely impossible for me to spend a few hours without having to go through all the whirling chaotic thoughts concomitant with Tori, without me having to feel guilty and moribund about whatever  _shit_ happened between us?

"Hunter, are you listening?" Tally's voice drags me out of my rumination.

"Uh, no, sorry. What were you saying?" I ask, running a hand through my damp hair.

"Do you ever listen-" she starts angrily but breaks off midway in her speech, sending me a long worried look. "What's wrong?"

_Fantastic. Great day to be obvious, Hunter._

"Nothing," I tell her, avoiding her gaze. "I was thinking about something else. Sorry. So what were you saying?"

"Did you hear anything at all?" she asks skeptically.

"Yeah," I reply. "Tori. You were talking about Tori."

A sharp jolt runs through me as I mention her name and I wonder since when it had become physically painful to utter her name when all that she had ever done was try to save me,  _love_ me.

Perhaps that is where the problem was: she had chosen  _me._ How could I ever return anything that she gave me, how could I possibly love her? I had never done that and I simply did not know how to do it. And I was too scared to learn, too scared that it would all end up hurting me.

"She acted pretty strangely around me," Tally's voice drags me to the present.

I do not trust myself to say anything then, so I just nod, my eyes glued to the ground.

"Okay, I might have been a little bit of a blabbermouth," Tally concedes, the slightest hint of guilt and shame in her voice. "I kinda told her how Blake used to go on and on about her and maybe that was not the best thing to say given the circumstances. But you know me, right? I sometimes talk without a filter."

"Sometimes?" I manage to sound sarcastic, despite the war in my head.

"Well," she cringes. "And I also told her that I knew it had not ended very well between the two of them and that you were the one who had told me all that, after, you know, the first day we got drunk-"

"Wait, what?" I interject. "Oh,  _damn_."

"What?" she looks at me, confusion etched on her face.

"Uh, what happened then?" I ask, fully well understanding why Tori might have acted strangely. She did not deserve to know all that, not from a complete stranger anyway. It is hardly a secret that I sleep around but I never really talk to Tori about it. In some twisted way, I always feel I am betraying her just a little by my frequent constant one night stands.

"She just left," Tally replies. "Her face was all flustered, like I had told her that her boyfriend was cheating on her."

I laugh wryly at that, which earns me a skeptical glance from her.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Nothing," I sigh. "You should not have told Tori all that."

"Why?"

"Well," I start, unsure how to explain it. "She is a… friend, so-"

"A friend?" Tally scoffs, raising her eyebrows. "You have a  _female_  friend?"

"Yeah," I brush off her comment with a brief disapproving glance. "You basically told her about us sleeping together and friends do not take that kind of information well."

I am convinced that I have explained the situation without giving too much away, without giving anything away.

"Friends become uncomfortable, Hunter," she rolls her eyes. "They do not act like tat unless- holy crap, she is the drug lord's daughter."

"What?" I ask, thoroughly lost and confused.

"How could I be so dense?" she almost shrieks. "She is the girl! She is your girl, the girl you would not tell me about. The assumed drug lord's daughter."

"I don't know what you are talking about, Tally," I try to sound bored and exasperated.

"Hunter Bradley," she adopts an authoritative tone as she grabs my wrists. "Do not ever lie to me."

"I am not-"

"No no," she shakes her head. "No lying, I said. She is the girl, isn't she?"

"Tally, I-"

"Hunter!" she almost shouts. "Yes or no?"

_Yes._

"No."

"Hunter," her voice verges on the threatening. "Look at me in the eye and say that."

"What the hell, Tally?" I growl.

I glare at her, setting my face into an iron facade.

She meets my eyes with a level gaze, crossing her arms defensively over her chest and not replying.

"Really?" I scoff. "This is how you will react?"

"If you keep lying, yes," she shrugs. "I have got it figured out this once, Hunter, so quit trying to lie your ass out of the situation. God, Hunter! Your face does things at the mention of her name and you expect me to believe it is nothing?"

I cringe at that, squirming in light of her observation, wondering how Tori had managed to disturb and disrupt my perfected mask.

"So, Hunter, yes or no?" she asks softly.

I let out a breath, debating on what to say but when I bring my eyes to meet hers, I realize I cannot lie to her anymore, for her sake more than mine and so I let the world slip out of my mouth, its power shaking the ground beneath my feet, "Yes."

* * *

The drive back to my house is jilted and awkward, the weight of the incongruous silence burying us, the tension so thick in the air that it could be cut with a knife. We reach my house without a word being spoken.

I ponder upon all that I can say to break the silence that has descended upon us. But there really is nothing left for me to say in light of Tally's observation.

"Hunter," she says, almost sensing my discomfort. "It does not have to be like this, you know. We know better than this to let something like this come between us."

She does not say any more, only leaves the space empty for me to fill. I try again, try to say something, any  _damn_ thing but all I come up with is silence.

"I do not know what you are thinking but I am happy for you," she says. "I really am."

I cannot usually read people, their actions confuse me, their words almost always are duplicitous, their eyes say something and their mouths spurt out something else. It is all forgery and over the years, I have survived through the facades and the lies by not trusting anyone. Admittedly, it is not the best way to live but it gets me through, keeps me alive and as long as I have that, I am not complaining.

But if there is one thing that I can read with ease, perfunctorily, it is lies, falsehood. I do it so often that when someone lies to me, it is like looking at myself in the mirror; it is very hard to go wrong with that.

I would let it go on another day, with another person in another situation but this is Tally, and I do not want to listen to the lies she is making up because she thinks she is protecting me, saving me. I cannot take being pitied anymore, cannot take being treated as weak and needy anymore.

"Tally," I start, voice painfully strained. "Don't lie to me, please."

Her gaze falters for a second, an uneven shaky breath leaving her mouth before she looks at me, eyes resolute yet uncertain.

"I am not lying, Hunter."

"You don't have to be happy for me," I tell her, the words making my heart wrench in pain. "It is not an obligation. I… I realize what kind of a situation I have put you in and I am sorry."

She shakes her head slightly, laughing ruefully.

"You don't have to be. We were never supposed to be anything more than whatever we were," she trails off.

She adds a little more assertively after a while, trying to convince herself more than me, "It was always a no strings attached kind of thing, I never expected anything more."

"So, now what?" I ask, my words sounding hollow and lame.

"Nothing," she sighs. "Maybe another time, another place."

"Yeah, I know."

"Hell, Hunter!" she cries. "We are not sentimental people. This is becoming too emotionally charged."

I manage a laugh, allowing her attempt to downplay the situation to succeed.

I am thankful for the phone call that interrupts us. I heave a sigh of relief as the blaring sound fills the air around us.

It is Tally's phone and she picks it up. I watch as the color drains from her face as the person on the other end undoubtedly gives her bad news. I wonder what it is, my mind accelerating into overdrive, thinking of all that could have gone wrong.

"I will note down the address," she tells the person on the other end.

She grabs a piece of paper from the dashboard and quickly notes down the address. I peek into the sheet, taking a look at the address. It is far from the best part of town.

"I will be there as soon as I can," she says before disconnecting the phone.

"It is my flatmate," she says before I can ask. "She is sloshed and now I need to go pick her up. That was the bar manager calling."

I vaguely remember Tally's flatmate, the one I had run into a few nights back.

"Aria?" I question, recalling her name.

"Yup," she says, feigning a chirpy tone.

"What are you planning to do?"

"Be her white knight, of course," she says caustically.

"Something tells me you have some experience being her white knight," I laugh, enjoying her irritation.

"Yes," she scowls.

"Alright," I sigh. "Let's go, then."

She stares at me for a second, the confusion apparent in her eyes. "What? You are coming?"

"Trust me when I say this,  _you_ will need a white knight where we are going."

She does not argue much, only mumbles under her breath, "You are no white knight."

* * *

Drunk Aria turns out to be a lot more noxiously chirpy and exuberant than sober Aria. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a hug as soon as she spots me in the crowd.

"Hey," she squeals into my ears. "You are the sneaky guy."

I cringe but manage to let out a stuff hello.

"I forgot your name,' she pouts.

"Hunter."

She frowns at that, not unlike the previous day.

"My father hated that name," she says, echoing her words from the other day.

"Pleasantries can be exchanged later," Tally says as she approaches us, pulling Aria away from me.

Quite unsurprisingly, Aria kicks up a fuss about us dragging her home and it comes to the point where I am forced to carry her in my arms.

"You know, Hunter," she drawls. "You are spoiling my party."

I do not reply, seeing no point in talking to her.

"And now you are ignoring me!" she cries out.

"Aria!" Tally barks as we make our way out into the road. "Shut up."

I marvel at the effectiveness of Tally's words as Aria falls into a silence till we reach the car.

"Okay guys," she says, giggling. "I know you love to go all smoochy smoochy but someone has to sit with me in the back seat."

"For what joy?" Tally asks, bored.

"Because I need a pillow," Aria says, as if stating the obvious.

Tally rolls her eyes before sending me a meaningful glance and telling Aria, "Hunter can be your pillow."

I am about to protest when Aria shrieks gleefully before latching onto me.

I sigh and curse Tally under my breath as I get into the car, Aria behind me.

The journey back to their apartment seems like an unending one as Aria keeps giggling and drunk-talking in my ears.

"You are not a comfortable pillow, Hunter," she complains.

"I am sorry to disappoint you," I reply coldly.

She laughs at that.

"I can see why Tally likes you," she says and I stiffen.

"Shut up, Aria!" Tally barks again sending Aria into another fit of silence.

"You know," she starts again, after a few minutes. "No one can blame me for being such a big fan of drinking."

"And why is that?" I ask tiredly, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Don't move," she whines. "You are a pathetic pillow."

"Tell me something new," I mumble.

She ignores me completely and continues, "You see, I take after my father. He was a good for nothing sucker for alcohol."

Whatever caustic words were forming on my lips die at that.

A tinge of sympathy rises in me for the girl currently leaning into me, her head on my shoulders and her words waging a war in my head.

And suddenly, all that she is saying no longer seem like drunken words and a slight shiver runs down my back at the familiarity of her tale.

"People should be glad that it is only the drinking in which I resemble him," she says. "Otherwise, at best, I would have been an abuser and at worst, a murderer."

_Fuck._

I find myself suddenly focused only on Aria and her words, I pay no attention to the questioning glance Tally shoots at us from behind the wheel.

"You talk a lot about your father," I quietly tell her.

"It's hard to ignore the person you hate the most," she whispers, her words no longer slurred, only full of vehement and venomous loathing.

* * *

"Thanks a lot," Tally says as she shuts the door to Aria's room behind her. "She can be a handful when she is drunk."

I laugh at that.

"She seems nice," I say vaguely.

"She is," Tally reassures me. "A little troubled but nice."

I sigh.

"I should go back home," I tell her, wringing my hands together awkwardly.

"Yeah," she says. "It's late, do you want me to drop you?"

"Nah," I shake my head. "I will be fine. You stay with her."

"She has unnatural hangover healing powers," Tally rolls her eyes. "She will be fine with a few hours of sleep."

"I will see you around, then," I tell her, preparing to leave.

"Sure," she says. "Don't disappear from the track again."

"I won't."

She nods and I turn around to leave.

"And Hunter," she calls after me. "Talk to Tori, please."

* * *

That night, I drift in and out of sleep, my mind meandering through the serpentine world of my labyrinthine dreams and memories. It is a strange concoction of the baleful and the nostalgic, the ones I would rather forget and the ones I would never forget.

* * *

Thunder crackled from my fingers as I leaped back in a desperate attempt at self defense, my heart hammering in my chest, my palms sweaty as a result of what I had seen.

I had never seen him so angry, so full of the need to stifle the life out of me.

"Please," I wept, helplessness flooding me. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"But you will," he growled as he grabbed a knife from the kitchen top.

"I won't," I cried. "I won't."

His eyes cleared for a minute, the drunken glaze disappearing, the ferocity dying and I let out a breath I never knew I was holding. But before I knew it, he had cleared the distance between us, placing the sharp edge of the knife on my neck.

"No," I howled.

"You should know what happens if you get in daddy's way," he slurred out.

"Please don't," I screamed.

"There is no one to save you this time, kid," he sneered. "Mommy is gone. Did you feel her cold hand?"

I shuddered at his words, a violent series of hiccups claiming me.

"I won't tell, I promise," I screamed again, the cold tip of the knife dancing on my skin.

"I know you will," he yelled and I closed my eyes believing it to be the end, preparing myself to embrace the pain and the darkness.

* * *

I wake up, bathed in my own sweat, my hands aquiver, my insides lurching in trepidation. It feels too real, the nightmare still alive in front of me.

Suddenly, I am filled with the need to get away from here, escape from the confines I have built around myself, but my legs refuse to move. There is an iron weight burying me and no matter how much I try, I fail to escape and find myself trapped in the cage of memories, chained to the past.

I draw my knees closer to my chest and bury my head in my hands, closing my eyes in a futile attempt to close off the world and retreat into an impregnable shell. My hands tremble as I clasp them around my head and when the tears threaten to come streaming down, breaking my emotional barrier, I do not try to stop them, succumbing to my fears and losing myself in the minatory abyss.

* * *

 

I do not realize how I end up at her house. I pause by the door for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts.

I know this is unfair and selfish, rushing to her when the world collapses around me and then pushing her away but if there is anyone who can help me, _save_ me right now, it is her.

I knock on the door, my breathing still ragged and uneven, the quiver in my hands still present.

It does not take much time for the door to open and I realize she must have been awake. She looks just as bad as I do, miserable and broken, bags present under her eyes.

She is overtaken by surprise to see me and her eyes widen for a moment. Before she can say anything, I find myself moving forward, wrapping my trembling hands around her waist, placing my lips on her forehead in a febrile, needy kiss, slumping slightly against her.

Her body remains stiff against mine for a few seconds before she relaxes and wraps herself closer around me.

"It's okay," she whispers, placing her head against my shoulder.

I breathe heavily, no words leaving my mouth.

We remain consumed by that silence for a long time, tightly wound in each other's arms, listening to each other's heartbeat.

"It will be fine," she whispers again. "Everything will be fine."

"Tori," I manage to croak out.

"I am here, Hunter," she says. "I am here."

"I am sorry," I whisper hoarsely.

"Me too," she whispers.

I sigh, pulling her closer.

"I did not know what to do," I say. "I could not sleep and you-"

"Hey," she cuts me off. "It's okay."

She pulls back slightly, just enough to look me in the eye. Her lips curve into a half smile as she caresses my cheek.

"I am glad that you are here," she whispers.

I nod as she places a featherlight kiss on y lips, just the slightest of pressure in her gesture.

"Do you want to talk?" she asks.

"Not now."

"Okay."

"Tori," I begin. "I really am sorry."

"I know, Hunter," she says. "We will talk in the morning, there is plenty of time. Everything will be fine."

I stare at her for a second, noting how her eyes glimmer in the darkness with belief and conviction in them.

"Okay," I whisper.

"Alright," she says as she runs a hand through my hair. "That's good."

* * *

Like always, we end up in her bed, tucked under the covers, legs tangled, her hand on my chest, mine around her waist, her breath falling evenly on my neck.

I fall asleep to the cadence of her voice, "I really missed you, Hunter."


	9. Just Give Me a Reason

**Tori**

* * *

Just give me a reason, just a little bit's enough  
Just a second we're not broken just bent, and we can learn to love again  
It's in the stars, it's been written in the scars on our hearts  
We're not broken just bent, and we can learn to love again

-  _Just Give Me a Reason,_

Pink feat. Nate Ruess

* * *

I wake up alone in my bed without the familiar hand carefully wrapped around me, without wakeful blue eyes staring back at me.

I sit up straight, panic gripping me immediately. The bed is still warm beside me, the pillow still has a dent in it, the weight of last night still hangs heavily in the air.

My first instinct is to believe he is gone, has once again run away from questions that need to be answered and decisions that need to be made despite whatever promises, with words or not, were made last night.

_Hunter freaking Bradley._

But then, there is the faintest of sound in the distance followed by the clattering of utensils, that robs the morning of its peace.

"Shit, sorry." Then there is a started weary face at the door. "I was making breakfast, didn't mean to wake you up."

I laugh, because there is relief bubbling through me that he is still here, has stayed, stuck with me, because he looks better than the man he had been reduced to in the last few days, because he is still looking at me with awe-struck apologizing eyes and I cannot seem to stop myself from hysterically giggling.

"I was already up," I manage, giddiness flooding me. "It's cool."

And somehow he is smiling too, head bowed slightly, his hair hanging across his forehead, and I begin to think that maybe things will work out.

* * *

It does not take too long for my bubble to burst.

There is half burnt toast and eggs for breakfast, with absolutely no mention of last night.

And I realize, it had only been a moment of weakness for Hunter, one tiny moment where his walls had been breached and his emotions had found a way to the surface.

He had never intended to say those things, had never intended to make those promises, probably had never intended to come here or spend the night or kiss me.

_Shit._

Last night only happened because he was weak and needy in that moment, not because he was ready for anything more.

I have to lock myself in the bathroom for that thought to sink in and as I collapse on the floor, silent sobs racking through me, I wish I could say it was the same for me.

* * *

We make our way through the woods together.

"How do you walk this entire way every day?" Hunter groans beside me.

Surprisingly, we have somehow retained the previous fluidity of our conversations and a sense of normalcy surrounds us. It's precarious and just hangs by a thread, vulnerable and delicate, but it's there and for now, it seems enough.

Maybe we don't want the same things, maybe we never will, and even though it rips me apart, making every part of me ache and hurt and  _yearn_ , it does not mean I cannot enjoy these little moments.

_Or so I tell myself._

"It's not that much of a walk, really," I tell him, a teasing accusation hanging in my words. "You feel it's long because you have been streaking through it forever."

"But streaking is a lot of fun," he protests.

"I'm pretty sure it is if you are trying to kill yourself," I reply drily, with a roll of my eyes.

I wait for a sarcastic comeback, glancing at him sideways, but there is no witty remark.

Hunter has just frozen in his place, his feet glued to the ground as his eyes stare at the ground, aimless and blank.

"Hunter?"

There is no response and suddenly I am unsure of what I am dealing with.

"Hey," my voice sounds panicked, even to my own ears. I reach out tentatively for him, my fingers wrapping around his wrists and say a little more firmly, "Hunter?"

The physical contact seems to work and he snaps out of the trance like state he had worked himself into. He looks at me for one unclear hazy moment, his eyes lost and unfocused, before turning his gaze away.

"What just happened?" I breathe out, my heart hammering in my chest.

I have seen Hunter wake up from nightmares, broken and discordant but zoning out in the middle of a conversation is a new and I cannot help but be worried about it.

"I... I don't know," he whispers hoarsely.

"Seriously?" I feel the worry being replaced by anger. I have had enough of his bullshit, enough of the evasive prevaricating answers and so I erupt, "What the hell is wrong with you, Hunter? You know, I can't read minds and if you don't tell me what is wrong, I can't help you."

I pull away from him and draw a few steps backwards, creating some distance between us.

His gaze clears as he registers my words.

"Tori-" he starts, almost pleading.

"Don't. Don't talk," I snap. "Turning up at four in the morning after you avoid me very diligently for four fucking days and then  _this_. How can you expect me to live through all of this without an explanation? We were supposed to talk in the morning and you said nothing, and honestly, I'm too scared to push you anymore. Goddamit, Hunter, why does it have to be so difficult with you?"

He looks at me without a word, and I continue, almost wistfully, "Remember how things were before that stupid drunken night? You used to talk to me about whatever was going on. Things were so much better then."

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head ruefully.

"I know," he finally says.

"I don't understand this, Hunter. We know we never really meant whatever we said."

_I can't do this, Hunter. Not like this. I am not one of your girls._

_Maybe this is a mistake, it's probably all wrong._

"We never wanted to hurt each other and it's sad that things happened the way they happened but can't we move past it?"

"Yes," his voice is barely a whisper.

I know I should let it go here. This is an improvement from wherever we were in the morning, and I should just let this conversation end here. But my tongue has other plans, churning out words before I can filter them.

"And the kisses-"

His head snaps up at that, his eyes meeting mine in surprise and tiredness.

"-that's for another conversation," I say quickly, trying to save the situation.

"No, they aren't," he sighs heavily, wearily leaning against a tree. "It's all connected, twisted."

I know he is right.

"But one thing at a time, okay?" I say tiredly. "First we talk about the nightmares and blackouts or whatever just happened now, and then we figure out the rest."

He nods in reply.

"I was going to tell you about last night. I was just... figuring things out."

"You don't have to do it all alone, that's what I'm saying."

Silence reigns for a while and we quietly resume our walk, the sounds of the woods surrounding us.

And just as we are about to enter the waterfalls, he whispers, "Thank you, Tori."

* * *

I realize as I sit surrounded by paperwork, that I have become an unsteady unsure mess of a person. I have always known myself to think pragmatically and clearly, to always know what I want and what I don't.

But when it comes to Hunter, I find myself confused and indecisive, failing to make decisions and grasping at my wayward emotions, trying to make sense of it all.

I know I want something more with him, something more than this virtual relationship that we seem to have transcended into, where we do not acknowledge our actions and their consequences but I also know that if he does not want to go down that road, I will still be fine with it.

I probably won't be happy but I will be okay, because if there is anything that I have learnt in the last few days, it is that he makes my life a little better just by being in it.

* * *

"Coffee?"

A smile breaks onto my face at that.

"You are a savior, Shane," I marvel, taking the cup from him.

"Stuck with paperwork?" he asks, taking a quick look at the mess of files around me.

"Ugh, yes," I groan. "I hate the end of sessions."

"I know, right?" he reciprocates my dislike. "Cam has been up my ass lately, thanks to the Annual Exam."

"Oh yes, his precious little Annual Exam," I say bitterly.

He laughs in return.

"This is better than your usual coffee," I comment, taking a sip from the cup.

"Yeah, well," he mutters, eyes skittering. "I had a little help."

Realization dawns upon me. His shaky voice and darting eyes indicate only one thing.

"From Kapri?" I press, a teasing grin on my face.

His face turns bright red at the mention of her name and he mumbles an incoherent yes.

I burst out laughing at the sight of Shane, all embarrassed and shy.

"The last time I saw you like this was in eighth grade," I tell him. "Remember Hannah?"

He laughs at that memory.

"I never talked to her though," he says.

"I know, and you cried when she left Blue Bay Harbour."

"I remember that," he says sheepishly.

"So how are things with you and Kapri?"

"It's... new," he replies with a smile plastered on his face. "And nice."

I find myself smiling too at his admission.

"We weren't really planning on it," he continues. "It sort of just happened."

"I know," I say sincerely, because I really do.

"I saw Hunter today," he says, as if sensing what is on my mind. "He looked a lot better than a zombie."

I chuckle.

"Things better then, between the two of you?" he asks promptly.

"Um. It's a work in progress, I guess," I answer honestly.

"Well, you'll get there," he smiles.

_I hope so._

I nod in reply, grateful for the kind words.

"I have a class in ten minutes," he says, checking his watch. "See you later?"

"Yes, sure."

* * *

I have been aware of his presence for a while now, eyes which I know are blue following me, glued to me.

On another day, I would have been annoyed; I am way past being creeped out by Hunter's antics. But today, I cannot help but smile because he has decided to find me and seek me out.

"I know you are there, Hunter," I say it aloud once I have dismissed my class.

"I wanted you to know," he replies from somewhere.

"Can you at least step out? I feel like I'm talking to a ghost."

There's the sound of a twig breaking followed by the swoosh of the harsh wind and then he is standing in front of me.

"You crave drama, don't you?" I roll my eyes at him, despite the realization that he has intentionally created a space between us, standing a little far away from me. I understand it, probably I would have done the same.

He laughs in reply, a thorough joyous sound that makes my skin tingle.

"No class to teach?" I ask, trying to shrug off the feeling.

"I let them go early," he replies.

"Sensei Bradley showing mercy, who would have thought?" I say, a teasing lilt in my voice.

"I don't make them slave as hard as you," he counters.

"That's not true!"

"Yes, it is," he flashes a crooked smile at me. "You made them train in the rain."

"Because they needed to learn more about their element!" I cry indignantly. "Besides you brought them out in a thunderstorm."

"Touché," he concedes.

I realize we have gravitated towards each other in the midst of the conversation. I know he notices too by the way his eyes dart between me and the space between us, but he makes no effort to pull back and so I don't either.

A silence falls in between us after that and we walk through the woods together, our shoulders brushing occasionally, making my heart flutter dangerously.

"Hey Tori?"

"Yeah?"

"About this morning. I mean, the freezing thing, and also last night. I have been having these nightmares about a time I want to run away from and just forget, you know. And they have been happening a lot lately, and I just don't know how to deal with them."

I was not expecting this: for him to phrase his problems into words and say them aloud.

Not so soon, anyway.

"I don't think you should be running away, Hunter," I tell him softly. "I think you need to face it."

He pauses to consider what I have just said. His face has turned paler and I wonder what he is really talking about.

"I don't know if I can," he whispers eventually, eyes refusing to meet mine.

He sounds defeated and I hate seeing him like this.

I don't think too much about it, simply close in on the distance between us and place a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at me.

"For what it's worth, I believe in you," I whisper, not paying attention to how close we are or how my heart beats thunderously in my chest.

He takes in a deep breath and smiles weakly.

I let my hand fall awkwardly and make to pull back, but before I can do anything, he presses his lips on mine.

_Oh._

I am caught off-guard for a moment, a confused fraction of time, before I respond to him: my mouth moving against his, slowly yet assuredly and then pulling him closer.

We have stolen too many of these kisses, for it to matter anymore.

His hands find a place around my waist and I let mine rest on his chest. This lasts longer than all the ones before this, stretches infinitely and makes me warm inside.

We pull back almost reluctantly and stay wrapped in an embrace, which is a welcome change from all the previous times.

"So we have really raised the bar, huh?" he says, pulling back to meet my eyes. "Now we kiss each other too."

It should not but it makes me laugh, "I guess."

* * *

"I don't know about you guys but this feels like a great opportunity to binge on pizzas while Cam gives us stupid details about the Annual Exam," Dustin says, picking up a slice of pizza from the table.

"I do agree with you, dude," Shane says, following Dustin's suit. "Just don't let Cam hear you."

"Too bad he already did," the Samurai states coldly, walking into Ninja Ops coolly.

We had been using Ninja Ops for all the meetings between the five of us. It felt like a fitting tribute to the place that had become home for many long and dreary months.

I have to stifle a laugh at the exchange between the three of them.

Shane and Dustin cannot seem to do anything but stare at each other awkwardly while Cam has busied himself with the computer.

"Hey, sorry I am late," Hunter saunters into the underground shelter.

"Not a problem," Cam says icily. "Do you want pizza, Hunter?"

Hunter looks startled out of his wits and looks around the room uncomfortably, perhaps searching for some anomaly.

"Um... no thanks?" he finally says, hesitantly.

Hunter looks at me with incredulous eyes, trying to gauge the situation.

"What the hell?" he asks, settling beside me.

"I'll fill you in later," I manage to let out in between uncontrollable giggles.

Meanwhile, Cam has moved onto lecturing two of the seniormost senseis while they grovel for forgiveness.

And Hunter looks on in amazement, holding me steady as I dissolve into senseless laughter.

* * *

"Planning to surf tomorrow?" Hunter asks as we reach the end of the woods.

Night has fallen hours ago and I can see the city lights dazzling in the distance.

"I don't know, maybe," I say.

"Okay then," he says awkwardly. "If you do, I'll see you at the beach."

"If not, then the woods?"

"Yes, of course."

He turns away with that but I call after him, "Get some sleep, okay?"

He nods before disappearing into the night.

* * *

Sleep eludes me for a few hours as I lie in bed, a war of thoughts in my head.

Surprisingly, I haven't been thinking about us, because the kiss in the woods made me realize that maybe certain things should be allowed to develop spontaneously without rigorous words and talks trying to shape them.

What bothers me is the increase in the frequency of the nightmares that Hunter stubbornly refuses to talk about.

I had come to the conclusion that they were about the time before the Bradleys and the Thunder Ninja Academy, because that is something he never talked about.

_Besides that scar._

I still shudder at the memory of that scar. Maybe there is no story behind it and honestly, I would be happy if it were that way, but given how he has always deflected from telling me anything about it, I fear something worse.

I doze off after that, sleep finally claiming me, wrapping a blanket of darkness around me.

* * *

The entire beach stretches like an empty and unwelcome expanse.

There is no sign of Hunter and I wade into the water with my surfboard. It does not make me worry too much; he had probably just decided to sleep in.

By the time I leave the beach, the morning is no longer young and clusters of people throng the once deserted area.

I look around one final time but there is no trace of crimson in the horizon.

* * *

There is no message awaiting me either and my calls go unanswered as well.

I truly begin to worry when I find the woods empty too: the first inkling of misgivings stirring within me.

I check the Academy but just as I had expected, he is nowhere to be found.

It does not take me too long to figure out what to do and I streak across the woods and the town to reach his apartment.

* * *

I don't even know what I fear or worry about as I knock on Hunter's door.

There is no reply and I knock again, a little louder.

My palms are sweaty and I have to shift my weight from one foot to another to keep my calm.

The door opens after a loud crash on the other side.

"Tori," he barely says my name before staggering back.

"Whoa." I am quick on my feet and hold him steady before anything can happen.

He comes to rest again a wall and shrugs off my assistance, "I'm fine, just a little dizzy."

That is when I notice it: empty glass bottles strewn across the apartment and broken shards on the floor, presumably from the crash I heard.

"You were drinking," I state, mostly to myself.

"I'm not drunk," he says immediately.

"You need to sit," I sigh, guiding him to the couch.

He does not protest and sits down with a groan.

"Have you been doing this all night?" I ask, trying to keep the accusation from my voice as I kneel in front of him.

Honestly, I am only trying to understand what might have transpired in these few hours that he felt the need to resort to alcohol.

"Almost, yes," he says.

"What happened?"

He sighs, "I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to turn up at your place again. Alcohol seemed-"

I know where this is going and so I cut him off, "We talked about this, Hunter. You don't have to do this alone-"

"No, dammit Tori," it's his turn to cut me off. "My issues are not yours to deal with. You don't have to live through my crap."

I feel anger bubbling within me with those words. "Really, Hunter?" I almost yell. "After everything, this is what you have to say?"

His eyes clear at that and he curses.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. He is messed up right now and there's no point in getting worked up.

"Look, just take a shower," I tell him. "And once you have had something to eat, we'll figure this out."

"I... I'm fine," he says helplessly. "And I'm not wasted, if that's what you think."

"Yes, okay," I conciliate. "Just take a shower."

He stares at me for a moment, weighing a decision I'm not aware of.

"What are you thinking?" I whisper.

"Remember I told you about that time I want to run away from?" his voice breaks with every word and I find my hands wrapping around his. "I think it's catching up with me."


	10. Only Love Can Hurt Like This

**Tori**

* * *

But when you're not there I just crumble  
I tell myself I don't care that much,  
But I feel like I die 'til I feel your touch,  
Only love, only love can hurt like this,  
Only love can hurt like this.

-  _Only Love Can Hurt Like This,_

Paloma Faith.

* * *

"Why would you say that?" I breathe out, my hands tightening their grip over his.

He lowers his gaze, his eyes darting across and refusing to meet mine. The calm blue eyes that seemingly cannot be perturbed appear to be lost in a past with too many ghosts.

"Hunter," I whisper, lifting his chin up to make him look at me. "What's catching up with you?"

"I can't... I can't explain it," he says helplessly, his voice breaking reminding me just how fragile he is right now.

I have known Hunter to be this fragile after waking up from his nightmares and it took me a long time to understand how much of trust he had invested in me to see him that exposed and naked. But that had always been in the darkness of the night when the world seemed bleaker than what it really was so this- whatever was happening now- was something that I had no idea how to deal with.

"You can try," I tell him, hoisting myself up on the sofa, letting go of his hands momentarily. I turn around to face him and let my fingers entwine with his.

_He needs to know I'm here._

"I'm a monster, Tori," he whispers. "You wouldn't be able to look me in the eye if you-"

"Hunter Bradley," I cut him off firmly. "Don't you ever say that, you understand? There's nothing in this world that would make me look at you differently."

I feel a strange flutter in my stomach as I tell him so. This is probably the closest I have come to telling him what he already knows; what I already know.

_I hope he isn't drunk enough to forget this._

I feel his gaze softening as the impact of my words hits him. He lets out a short laugh and leans in close and for a moment, I wonder if he is going to kiss me again because something tells me that has become our new normal: the new sleeping beside each other with our legs tangled. But he only presses his lips against my forehead, his actions still making my heart beat rapidly.

"I don't deserve you, Tor," he says softly, his breath ghosting over my skin as his thumb caresses my cheek.

I'm too tired for another one of these conversations where I will have to yell at Hunter to stop him from going down the road of self defeat. Besides if sober Hunter doesn't get my point, drunk Hunter definitely won't so I simply shuffle closer to him and rest my head against his shoulder and let myself bask in the contentedness of this tiny moment of intimacy and tell him to shut up.

* * *

It had started as little moments with Hunter and it was the little moments that I loved the most.

I remember how hesitant we had both been initially to seek comfort in each other because back then the cloud of Blake still hung close over our heads.

I know Blake still means the world to Hunter. Blake may have completely forgotten his brother in the mad frenzy of racing but Hunter hasn't. I know he still stays up at night to watch Blake's races and interviews although he never admits it. They lost contact a few months into Blake's stint with Factory Blue and I know just how badly it hurt Hunter: it was enough for him not to care about whether what we were doing was right or not. By then, I was too hurt to care either; Blake's empty promises had made sure of that. And we set out down an untravelled foreign road together, not knowing what obstacles would come our way but we had each other and that was enough. We anchored each other and I stopped worrying about what was right and what wasn't. All I knew was that Blake had broken both of us and Hunter didn't know how to fix himself and I didn't want to heal all by myself.

_I was too tired of being lonely._

I understand why Blake and I didn't work out and I was never angry at him for choosing his career over me. Maybe I would have done the same, who knows?

But I had never thought I would have to see him stomp over his relationship with Hunter. It was something that I couldn't associate with the boy in navy who had looked like he had lost everything in the world when his brother had almost gone over the edge in that island of long forgotten times.

But I had also never thought that I would find happiness-

_Love._

-with Hunter Bradley.

* * *

Once he is in the shower, I busy myself with cooking him breakfast and calling Cam and letting him know that the two of us would be late for our classes.

He sounds a little agitated but doesn't press for more information either. He hangs up with a pointed reminder to report for the afternoon classes and meet him at the end of the day.

I am in the middle of removing the shards from the floor when he emerges from his room: hair wet and sticking to his forehead and wearing a fresh t-shirt with jeans. He looks a lot better and I am thankful for that.

"Feeling less drunk?" I ask him.

"I was never drunk," he groans and then his eyes widen as he realizes what I'm doing. "You don't have to do that, Tor," he says, hurrying to my side. He tries to pry the bag into which I'm putting the shards from my hand.

"I made you breakfast," I swat away his hand dismissively. "You didn't have anything but cereal so nothing fancy. Just go eat it."

"I can do this," he protests indignantly.

"So can I," I tell him firmly, fixing him with a glare.

He looks at me with steely eyes and doesn't budge for a long time but finally gives up with a sigh.

"Good," I grin at him triumphantly. "And I called Cam and told him we'll be late. But I don't think you should be teaching today, Hunter."

He looks at me questioningly.

"You look like shit," I tell him with a shake of the head. "I'll just train your students or something. Cam doesn't have to know you need the day off."

Surprisingly, he doesn't argue this time.

* * *

"So what happened last night?" I ask him warily as he takes another spoon of the cereal into his mouth.

He glances at me from his seat across mine at his dining table and then mutters, "I couldn't sleep."

"Nightmare?"

"Something like that," he says, toying with the spoon in his hand.

"What does that mean?" I ask him. I feel a tinge of impatience at his evasive answers.

"It's... complicated," he tells me with another glance.

"Remember that conversation we had, Hunter? The one about me not being able to read your mind," I tell him sharply.

"Sorry," he mumbles. He pauses for a moment and then says, "There was this envelope that had been slid under my door when I returned home last night." He runs a hand through his hair and I see a slight tremble in his fingers. "There was a photograph inside."

I look at him expectantly, my mind instantly jogging back to his previous words-

_"Remember I told you about that time I want to run away from? I think it's catching up with me._

\- and I have a foreboding premonition that wherever this is going it will involve that scar he never talks about.

"Of who?" I ask softly.

"My father," he replies, looking away from me. And before I can ask anything else, he quickly adds, "Not my adoptive father."

I give him some more time and he continues, "Why would anyone do that, Tori? It's sick. That man was a bastard."

I reach out for his hand instinctively and he takes it into his immediately.

"Hunter?" I ask tentatively because I don't know if I'm even supposed to bring this up. "That scar on your arm-"

His eyes instantly connect with mine and I detect a faint flicker in them. He answers my question before I can ask it, "Yes, Tori. That has everything to do with him."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"I do, yes," he whispers staring at our linked hands. "Just not now. Is that okay?"

"Yes, of course," I tell him reassuringly.

"We have the morning off, right?"

I nod in reply.

"Can we go somewhere for a few hours?" he asks, hesitation hanging in his words. "I don't want to stay here right now," he confesses with a sigh.

I squeeze his hand and tell him, "You know what, I have the perfect place in mind."

* * *

"I thought you hated this place," he says as soon as the distant gurgle of my element reaches our ears.

"I used to love it, once upon a time actually," I tell him, quickening my pace to trek through the woods and reach the stream. "And then I started hating it because back when I loved it, my home was a shitty place but then Shane dragged me here a couple of days back when-" I come to a screeching stop as soon as that memory hits me. I had been a mess that day and all because of the man walking beside me and currently looking at me with raised eyebrows.

It still astounds me to realize how important a part Hunter has become of my life, how much I have come to depend on him and how much I love being with him.

"When what, Tor?" he finally asks, bringing me out of my trance.

"You know, when we weren't really talking and you-"

"Avoided you for four days," he completes for me.

"Yeah," I sigh. "I didn't mean to bring that up, sorry."

There's silence for a while until he says, "I'm sorry for what I put you through, Tor." His voice is soft but I can hear the genuine remorse in it.

"I know you didn't mean to do it," I offer.

"I didn't, of course not," he replies, certainty in his words.

"Well, both of us messed up so I think we can call it a draw."

"I was more of a jerk about it," he scoffs.

That makes me laugh. "I can't disagree, you know."

He lets out a little laugh too and I find myself smiling at that. "I didn't find you at the beach those few days. Where did you disappear to?"

"I started riding again," he replies.

I feel the smile disappear from my face as an uncalled for and unwanted memory of Tally surfaces in my head. I don't intend to say it but I blurt it anyway, the sick feeling of jealousy dripping from my words, "With Tally?"

I don't know why this woman I know nothing about bothers me so much. I have always known Hunter to sleep around and although I have been affected by that knowledge, it has never made me physically ache like this before. Maybe it hurts this bad because I know she isn't one of Hunter's one night stands and that they actually know each other.

_That she could replace me._

Hunter stops in his tracks and brings me to a stop too, his hands holding my arms. I can't bring myself to look at him and try to avert his gaze.

"Tori," he begins and I instantly regret ever bringing her up. He had a damn envelope with his father's picture slipped into his home last night and here I was, being irrational and petty. "Tally and I-"

"You don't have to explain yourself, Hunter," I cut him off. "I didn't mean to say that. Besides we didn't come here to talk about-"

He presses a finger on my lips and shuts me up. I look at him with startled eyes but he continues, not paying me any attention, "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you're... ordinary and you're like everybody else in my life."

_"I'm not one of your girls, Hunter."_

The words play in my ears on repeat. I never should have said that.

"You're different, Tor," he continues and then adds, almost ruefully, "You are way better than I deserve."

I hate to see him put himself down and say things like that. And so I remove his fingers from my lips and clearing the distance between us, I press my lips firmly against his.

_Our new normal._

"Don't say that again," I whisper against his lips as we pull back breathlessly.

He never agrees to it, only pecks me one more time on the lips before we continue our walk to the stream.

* * *

"My students can be a difficult lot," he tells me suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had descended upon us, allowing the sounds of the woods to reign.

"I think I can handle them," I tell him, lazily throwing pebbles into the water.

He hums in reply.

"Besides," I tell him with a teasing grin on my face. "I have enough experience in dealing with difficult Thunder Ninjas."

He chuckles, "Thanks to pain-in-the-ass-Hunter-Bradley."

"Yup," I smile at him and fondly ruffle his hair. "And what will you do while I teach?"

"What a ninja does best, Sensei Hanson," he whispers conspiratorially. "I'll hang around in the shadows."

"You could just do your paperwork," I roll my eyes.

"I like watching you more," he says simply, not even looking at me, and makes my heart flutter.

_I think there's still a bit of alcohol in his system._

I groan in feigned annoyance despite the butterflies in my stomach, "You mean stalk me."

"Watch you," he repeats.

I snort and throw a pebble at him playfully.

* * *

"I was looking for both of you," Dustin intercepts us as soon as we enter the Academy.

"Why?" I question.

"Ranger Reunion tomorrow night," he explains. I have to roll my eyes at the name he has come up with for our get togethers. "You both are coming, right?

Hunter looks at me for confirmation and when I nod, he says, "Sure. What plans do we have?"

"None at the moment," Dustin scratches his head. "Just hang out, I guess."

"Sounds good," I tell him. "I'll be on my way now, boys. I have a difficult lot of Thunder Ninjas to handle." I eye Hunter and quirk him a smile which he returns with a lopsided grin.

"You are taking his classes?" Dustin shrieks, seemingly oblivious to our little exchange. "No fair, Tor."

"She loves me more, Waldo," Hunter says casually, giving Dustin a pat on his shoulder and I feel my face flush.

_Could be the alcohol talking._

* * *

"Show's over, Hunter," I call out into the wind as soon as the students from the last class of the day disappear from sight.

There's the faint rustling of leaves which is always followed by Hunter streaking to a stop in front of me. Today is no different.

"My students like you more," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Can you blame them?" I ask, a teasing smirk on my face.

He huffs but the smile on his face tells me he is only messing around.

We start our walk back to the Academy through the woods. Night is near and there is barely any sunlight filtering into the forest.

"Heading home?" he asks me.

"I have to meet Cam once," I tell him with a groan.

"Oh yes. Meeting at the end of the day."

"Yes," I cringe.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," he says awkwardly after a pause.

I frown, "Where do you think you are going?"

"Uh. Home."

"Alone?"

"Yes," he drawls. "Why?"

"You are out of your mind if you think you are spending tonight alone," I tell him firmly.

"Tori-" he protests as soon as he realizes what I'm telling him.

"I can't have you drinking to your death, Hunter," I tell him sharply.

He stops walking to glare at me. I don't know why he still tries doing this with me; it never works.

"That's not going to work," I tell him with a wave of the hand and walk past him.

"You don't have to do this, Tori," he calls after me.

"Hell I don't," I mumble.

* * *

Maybe it is me but I feel a slight undercurrent of tension hanging in the air as we lie beside each other in his bed, staring vaguely at the ceiling. I don't know why it comes as a surprise though. I had always known things wouldn't be like before after everything that had happened between us.

Besides this was the first night we were spending together deliberately and intentionally after we had somehow transcended into kissing each other; the night Hunter turned up at my door doesn't count. It was almost an accident.

_How screwed up are we?_

"What are we doing, Tor?" he whispers, almost echoing my thoughts.

"I don't know," I sigh, taking a quick look at him.

"That sounds like something I would say," he whispers, pulling me closer to him.

I comply and bury my head into his neck. "You must be rubbing off on me," I mumble and press a soft kiss on his jaw.


End file.
